


Collection of Hurt/Comfort and Smutty Moments

by goth_on_ham



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Bondage, Breathplay, Car Sex, Character Death, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dream Sex, Drunkenness, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, First Time, Fluff, Gags, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Non-Consensual Spanking, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 50
Words: 20,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goth_on_ham/pseuds/goth_on_ham
Summary: A collection of short pieces with multiple pairings answering requests from a 'hurt/comfort meme' and dialogue prompts. Some are kind of smutty.





	1. “Do you ever think we should just stop this?” (Zsasz x Ed)

“Do you ever think we should just stop this?”

Ed shook his head.  
  
  “Even with Penguin-“    
  
“No, I don’t think we should stop.” Ed insisted. “He doesn’t need to know.”  
  
  “Cold blooded. Butch was right about you. He said you were a snake.” Victor leaned in and kissed Ed’s neck bitingly. The other man gasped sharply, his eyes squeezing shut and fingers digging into Victor’s shoulders.

“Careful! You’ll leave a mark.” He reminded him, a whine in his voice. 

“Already did.” The assassin’s lips moved away from the pink and red bite mark on the side of Ed’s neck. 

“Why would you do that?” The taller man asked, pushing himself off of his lap and putting a hand to the bite mark. He looked at it in a nearby wall mirror, it wouldn’t fade for at least a day or two and was only an inch beneath his jawline. Too high to conceal with a shirt collar.    
  
He supposed that he could put a band-aid over it. It was either that or take to wearing scarves in summer.

Victor moved behind him quietly and wrapped his wiry arms around Ed’s waist, pulling them close together. Ed paid him little mind, still concerned about the love bite.  
  
  “I think that you’re using me,” Victor began, catching a subtle change in Ed’s expression from the mirror. The other man tried to turn around to defend himself, but the assassin tightened his hold to keep him where he was. “Don’t deny it. You’re not the only one with a brain between your ears, Edward.” 

The assassin moved his hands downwards, rubbing the other man’s length through his pants and feeling it stiffen in response. “You’re just lucky I like to live dangerously.”

Ed felt his breath on his neck, then teeth nipping at his ear lobe, then his neck again. He bit his bottom lip to keep himself from whimpering. The mirror in front of him making him see how undone Victor was capable of making him. He moved a hand over Victor’s, urging the other man to touch him more, but Victor had decided that Ed hadn’t quite earned that yet.

“Get on your knees.”  
  
  “But I-“ 

Victor wrapped Ed’s tie around one of his fists and pulled downwards sharply. Ed complied and got onto his knees. He looked up at him with an expression that was almost petulant. 

“It’s been a fun few weeks, hasn’t it? But I’m not sure if you’re worth the risk.” Victor’s smile widened as he saw Ed’s expression darken. The man’s pride was really something else. It was fun to poke and prod at it every so often, Ed wasn’t the only one who could manipulate people. “Convince me that we should keep doing this.”

Spurred on by the challenge, Ed sucked Victor’s cock with enthusiasm that the assassin hadn’t experienced from him before. He’d found that Ed didn’t like having his mouth occupied. It prevented him from making smart ass remarks.  Victor’s strong fingers pulled at the other man’s brown locks and tugged him forward, making Ed take in every inch of him as he came. 

When he had finished, he released the grip and Ed pulled back, coughing slightly as wads of Victor’s spunk escaped from his mouth.

“Do you still… Want to stop doing this?” The man on his knees asked once he had regained his breath. He looked up at Victor with a cocky smirk and the assassin couldn’t help but return it. 

“I haven’t decided yet. Get on your hands and knees and I’ll see.”


	2. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.” (Oswald x Zsasz)

“So then Gabe cut her breaks. It wasn’t supposed to happen like that. I was going to just have her back away, but she wouldn’t.” Oswald bemoaned, nestling his head against Victor’s chest as he clumsily poured more wine into his glass. Some of it spilled over onto the assassin’s clothes, but Victor did Oswald the courtesy of ignoring it. He had been drinking more and more recently, and it wasn’t even as if he was a ‘happy drunk’. 

“I know, boss.” He replied, as Oswald told him for about the sixteenth time that he hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but Isabella had left him no choice. 

“You don’t think Ed will find out, do you?” He asked, looking up at Victor with teary eyes and his face pink from drunkenness. 

“I don’t know.” 

His frank answer didn’t seem to provide Oswald with much comfort, since the diminutive mob boss pressed his face into Victor’s chest and groaned pitifully, his narrow back shuddering as he tried to keep in sobs. 

“Boss, he’ll find out if you keep making those noises. He can probably hear you at the other end of the house.” The assassin wasn’t used to providing comfort. He wasn’t even sure why Oswald had chosen his shoulder as the one to cry on. Perhaps it was because he knew that Victor had no personal stake in any of this and he also knew that Victor wouldn’t tell. 

“Do you th-think I should get rid of Gabe? H-He might feel bad for Ed and tell him.” Oswald’s voice, shaking and trembling and so small sounding, contrasted with the cruelty of his words. 

Victor chuckled and ran a hand over Oswald’s back with something akin to affection. That was the Oswald he knew.


	3. “You don’t need to protect me.” (Oswald x Maroni)

“You don’t need to protect me, I can handle this.”  
  
  Maroni raised an eyebrow and, after a moment’s consideration, he clapped Oswald on the back and squeezed his shoulder.  
  
  “Fine then, tough guy. Show me what you got.”

Oswald had been right. He could handle it. The little snitch might not be much to look at, Maroni thought to himself, but he had a way about him. Behind all that deference and nervous humbleness, he could see a streak of fierce ambition in those icy blue eyes. He recognised it because he’d been like that once. He’d worked his way up from nothing, and he knew raw ambition when he saw it.

“You get that from Fish?” Maroni asked, taking the smaller hand in his large one. He looked over the bandage on it, not noticing or caring how Oswald squirmed slightly at his touch, obviously embarrassed. Instead he found himself noticing how delicate the hand seemed, how cold it felt, and how it fit in his rather nicely. “What did she do?”

“It’s nothing. She was merely lashing out because she knows she’s losing.” The younger man replied, unable to hide the note of bitterness in his voice. 

Maroni laughed at that and released his hand, once again, he squeezed his shoulder. “Good. Let’s celebrate then.”

Oswald couldn’t imagine himself being like Maroni. He couldn’t imagine himself laughing so loudly and being so boisterous. Yet he wanted to have what he had, and more. Maroni was number two, and while the man might not admit it himself, Oswald knew that was all that he would ever be. 

He drank the flute of champagne and clinked his glass with Maroni’s when beckoned. 

“So, Oswald. How’d it feel to be back in that old club? You worked there, right?” Maroni asked, after he’d finished his second drink.

Oswald hadn’t expected the question, so he fumbled slightly over his answer. “I… I don’t really know, Don Maroni.”  
  
  “You didn’t find it weird?”  
  
  “I never really felt at home there anyway. It was just business.” He wasn’t being entirely truthful. While his relationship with Fish had been a turbulent one, and one that he would gladly trade in to get up another rung in the ladder, he’d been there for years. It was only natural that he’d grown accustomed to it. But it had always been a stepping stone to greater things.   
  
“Good.” Maroni smiled, and his hand squeezed Oswald’s shoulder for the third time. 

Maroni was a stepping stone as well. Oswald wondered if he would be around him long enough to grow accustomed to him too.


	4. "Can I kiss you?" (Strange x Nicewald)

“We’ve talked about your childhood, but today I wanted to move on from that and discuss your teenage years.”

“Yes, Profes- I mean, Hugo.” 

Oswald wasn’t exactly looking forward to talking about his adolescence. Like his childhood, it had been a difficult period of his life. Filled with bullying and loneliness, and with the added factor of his tormentors all growing up to be bigger, stronger and angrier than they had been as children.

While Oswald  _far_  preferred talking therapy to being strapped into that horrible chair with the headset, that didn’t mean that he found everything Hugo asked him about easy. In fact, most of it wasn’t. Talking about his crimes, his violence, his ruthlessness was the worst part. It forced him to remember that he was the same person that he saw in his nightmares, a man who had killed people for reasons as petty as wanting a sandwich. 

Hugo began to ask questions about how school had been for him during that period, if things had improved or gotten worse. If any specific events stood out that particularly upset him. If he could remember how he felt when someone called him names or tripped him up in the hallway. Oswald tried as best as he could to answer honestly, and he thought he must be doing well since Hugo was writing down a lot onto his clipboard and nodding with each answer. 

Eventually, he asked a question that caught him off guard.   
  
 “And what about girlfriends, boyfriends? Was there anyone like that in your life at that point?”

Oswald blinked, then laughed nervously and shook his head. “No, no there wasn’t.”

“I see,” Hugo wrote down a little more then looked at Oswald in a way that made the patient feel apprehensive. He couldn’t place why, but it almost felt as if the psychiatrist was waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t know what else there was to say about it. A few moments later, he spoke again. “Has there ever been anyone like that in your life?”    
  
Oswald was sure that he must be blushing now. He shook his head.

“I see.”

There were a few more moments of silence, Oswald wondering if he should say something, but he couldn’t think of what Hugo would want to hear.   
  
 “Can I kiss you?”  
  
  If he hadn’t been blushing before, he certainly was now. He looked up at Hugo, his eyes had moved downwards during the embarrassing questions, and now they were wide and staring at him in disbelief. 

“E-Excuse me?” He asked, his voice practically a squeak. His face felt so hot that he was sure he must look ridiculous, and his heart suddenly began beating so loudly in his chest that he was sure Hugo must be able to hear it. “I-I… I, don’t… Uh, I’m not sure if… Um…’

He fumbled for the words, when one of the psychiatrist’s hands touched his knee. That only made things worse. He stopped speaking and instead just squeezed the edges of the metal chair that he was sat on tightly, mouth moving slightly, but no words coming out.

Then, Hugo smiled and sat back, he clicked his pen and then began writing on the clipboard again. “I’m sorry about that Oswald, I was just testing a curiosity.”

Oswald’s body relaxed, but his face would take a little while longer to return to its normal colour. Had he been his old self, he would have been furious at Hugo for embarrassing him like that, but as it was, he was just thankful that it was over.


	5. "I just want this." (Jim x Oswald)

Jim knew that this wasn’t right.  
  
There was Lee, and besides that, Oswald was a criminal. He’d hurt people, killed people, and would only continue to do so for as long as he was free.  
  
He should be doing everything in his power to take him down. He shouldn’t be kissing him and running his hands underneath his shirt, feeling the pale flesh tremble against his palms with eager nervousness. It wasn’t right.  
  
But it felt so good. Oswald was always so hungry for affection, perhaps he was even more hungry for that than he was for power and respect. Although it was a close battle.  
  
His hunger made him grateful for every kiss and caress Jim gave him.  
  
“Tell me what you want, Oswald.” He asked him, voice low and gruff against the other man’s ear.  
  
Oswald’s hands ran over Jim’s back, feeling and appreciating the strength of him. He was so much more than he could have hoped for, so much more than he deserved.   
  
 “I just want this. I just… I want you.”  
  
They kissed and Jim let himself forget that this wasn’t right. For once Oswald and him were in complete agreement. Despite everything, they both wanted this.


	6. Injured (Strange x Nicewald)

“Professor Strange, Cobblepot won’t make his therapy session this afternoon. There was a fight in the cafeteria and he’s currently in the infirmary.”

“Oh dear.” 

Strange had expected this to happen eventually. As he was, Oswald couldn’t really fend for himself. His new friendly and docile demeanour was bound to get him hurt sooner or later.

Even before he’d been brought to Arkham, Oswald hadn’t been a physically intimidating man. His short stature and scrawny build meant that he had to rely on hired muscle if he wanted someone roughed up. However, he looked smaller than ever in Arkham. Without the three piece suits and ostentatious coats, he looked thin and helpless. The striped jumpsuit that he was required to wear was slightly too big, its bagginess did nothing to hide that his body was frail and broken. 

The psychiatrist went to see him in the infirmary, where Oswald was sitting up against the metal headrest of the bed. He was talking to the nurse that was bandaging his hand, he was smiling. 

“Oh, Professor Strange.” The nurse noticed him before the patient did.  
  
  “Don’t mind me, I just wanted to see how Oswald was doing. One of the guards told me that there was an altercation, and that I would find you here.” As he spoke, Oswald’s eyes lowered and his smile faltered.

“I’m sorry, Professor Strange. I tried to stop him, I really did.” 

At first, Strange had thought that the change in his expression might have been due to fear, but he understood now that it was guilt. 

“You don’t need to apologise, I understand that Mr Davidson attacked you. He has severe anger management issues, more precautions should have been made in allowing him out of his cell.” Strange looked over the other man, seeing that apart from the cut on his hand, he had a black eye and some bruising around his neck. Davidson had probably went for him with a knife, and Oswald had used his hand to stop it. 

“Thank you… I just, I didn’t want you to think that I had started something to get out of therapy.” Oswald admitted, voice trembling slightly and his eyes raising up shyly to look at the psychiatrist again. 

Strange smiled in response and shook his head. “Oswald please, I don’t think you’re capable of being that devious anymore.” 

Those words made the former gangland kingpin’s smile return and his body seemed to relax at the trust being shown to him. 

“Thank you!”

Glancing at his watch, Strange saw that he ought to start getting ready for his next appointment. It was a bit of a shame. If he was honest, he found Oswald far more interesting than his next patient. 

“I’m afraid I must go. I’ll leave you in this young lady’s capable hands.” Strange said, a subtle sort of charm and cheerfulness to his words. He turned to leave, then paused. “Oh, Oswald. One more thing, please remember, you’ve to call me ‘Hugo’.”

Oswald had become nervous again when he’d seen Strange stop, but what he said quickly made his anxiety dissipate. He nodded eagerly and beamed innocently at him. “Yes, I’ll try. Thank you, Hugo.”

Once he had gone, the nurse finished bandaging his hand and gave him some more painkillers. The injuries weren’t serious, but he was to spend the night in the infirmary just to be safe. Like everywhere in Arkham, it carried a macabre, sinister atmosphere that made sleep difficult to come by. Yet, after Strange’s visit, Oswald found it far easier to relax and let it find him.


	7. Cry (Ed x Oswald)

_“You? What about poor Ed? He will be heartbroken. Luckily he has a shoulder to cry on.”  
_  
He’d thought that Ed would want a shoulder to cry on. That’s what he could give Ed. He could comfort him in this dark time, run his hands over his back and tell him that it would be alright. That time healed all wounds and that he would get through this.  
  
However, it wasn’t as simple as that.  
  
There were tears, but they were solemn and silent. On the car ride back to the mansion, they made their way down Ed’s cheeks and made his dark brown eyes seemed darker than ever. Oswald didn’t have the courage to ask him if he wanted another hug. He looked down at Ed’s hands and saw that they were balled up into fists on his lap, shaking slightly. He began to feel afraid.  
  
“Isabelle would want you to be happy.” He said later, hoping that Ed would take that advice and start to move on. It had only been a matter of hours but Ed’s mood was troubling him. This wasn’t what he’d had in mind.    
  
“ _Isabella_.” Ed corrected, the coldness of his voice making the hand that had went to touch Ed’s arm in reassurance seize up.  
  
“Of course.” He smiled, tried to pretend it was just a slip of the tongue, but before he could say anything else, Ed had made his way out of the room that he’d been languishing in for the past day.  
  
No, this wasn’t what Oswald had had in mind at all.


	8. Drunk and Throw Up (Oswald x Maroni)

“You alright, Penguin?” 

Oswald could barely make out Maroni’s words. When he had tried to stand up, his head started to swirl and his already unsteady gait became so unreliable that it seemed like he might fall flat on his face if he tried to walk more than a few paces. Maroni grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down, forcing him to sit.

“Don’t be stupid, you’ll not make it halfway across the bar like that.” Maroni remarked, there was a hint of amusement in his voice, but it also sounded like he was reprimanding the younger man. He clicked his fingers to get the attention of the bartender. “Bring the little guy some water.”

“Thanks boss, I don’t know what I’d do witho-“ Oswald’s sycophantic words were cut off when a sudden wave of nausea overcame him and his body doubled over on the barstool. He couldn’t stop himself, before he could do anything to minimise the damage and turn away from the other man, he had vomited all over Maroni’s shoes.

“O-Oh my gosh! I am so, so sorry!” He got off the barstool and staggered backwards clumsily, his hands raised upwards in an attempt to pacify the mob boss. His head still spun, but he had a feeling that a splitting hangover tomorrow morning would be the least of his worries if he didn’t beg Maroni not to replace the leather of the shoes with his own skin. “I’ll pay to have them cleaned! I’m so sorry!”

Maroni was still looking down at the splattered shoes, then he chuckled. 

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve never done this before I’m so-“

“I said, don’t worry about it. It ain’t a big deal.” The larger man took Oswald’s arm and guided him back to the barstool.

The bartender put a glass of ice water in front of him. Oswald was still shaking, partly from nerves, partly from spilling the contents of his stomach all over Maroni’s expensive shoes and the floor. 

“Drink it. They’ll clean this up for us.” 

It was hard to focus, but the younger man took the glass of water into his hand, drew it to his lips and tentatively drank. The icy liquid soothed his throat, which had began to burn thanks to the acidic vomit. By the time he’d finished the glass, someone had cleaned up the floor and Maroni’s shoes and Maroni was chatting to him cheerfully as if nothing had happened.


	9. Fight (Ed x Oswald)

“I love you.” 

“I know.”

“I love you so much.”

“I know.”

Oswald pressed his face against the side of Ed’s neck, he could feel one of the taller man’s hands run over his back, the other resting on the back of his head. His long fingers tangled in his black hair but they were gentle, they didn’t pull, they didn’t grip tightly and knock Oswald’s head against the wall, which Ed would be within his right to do. 

To say that had had a fight would be an understatement. Ed had found out the truth, about  _everything_. He had been murderous with rage. He had pressed a knife to his throat and Oswald had sworn that he was about to die. Time seemed to stop as he looked into Ed’s deep brown eyes, thinking they would be the last sight he’d ever see. 

Then, something had softened amongst all the rage and Ed lowered the knife. 

Oswald’s heart was still pounding in his chest, his knees weak and threatening to collapse beneath him. Ed had put the closed over switchblade into his pocket and said, “Goodbye, Oswald.”

For weeks he hadn’t seen him. He hadn’t heard anything about him. It had been torture. In his melancholy he even began to think that perhaps it would have been kinder for Ed to have just slit his throat and be done with it. 

He didn’t think he would ever see Ed again.

Then, he came back. Olga had told him as he sat in front of the fireplace, staring into licks of the flames. The heat seemed to do nothing to warm up the cold, empty feeling consuming him from the inside out. 

He ran clumsily to him, drunk from one too many glasses of wine and hugged Ed. If he had come to finish the job, then that was fine. He’d impale himself on the knife as he embraced him. He just needed to hold him. 

Only after whimpering proclamations of love into Ed’s neck did he realise that the man was drenched. How long had he been standing out in the rain before coming inside? Oswald kept his hands on Ed’s arms, terrified that he would leave if he didn’t, and looked up at him. He searched the other man’s face for what was going through his mind. Forgiveness? Love? Anger? Bitterness? Resignation? Confusion? A combination of these feelings and more? 

“Ed I-“

“Oswald, I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did to Isabella.”

His heart, which he had sworn could not hurt any more than it already did, ached with renewed pain. Had Ed not continued to speak, he would surely have started to weep. 

“But I know that I love you, and I’m willing to try.”

This time, it was Ed who held him. His arms enveloping him in an embrace that was every bit as tight and desperate as Oswald’s had been.


	10. Humiliated (Jim x Ed)

Ed closed his eyes with a shamefully wanton groan. The kitchen countertop was cool against his cheek, but Jim’s hands were rough and warm. They ran down his thighs, spreading them apart. As undignified as it was, he squeaked in surprise as lubricant was dripped onto the middle of his ass, making its way down his crack. It was cold too.

Jim massaged the clear liquid into his hole with two fingers, then gradually began pushing the now slick digits in and out.   

This was humiliating. He should hate it.

He hated Jim, and Jim hated him.

_Why is he being so gentle?_

Ed couldn’t understand it, and he  _hated_  not understanding things.

“Ah… Mh…” He chewed on his bottom lip, making the skin tender. He was trying not to give away how good those fingers and those warm, calloused hands were making him feel. However, even if Jim hadn’t once been a detective, he would have been able to tell that Ed was enjoying himself. Apart from the half smothered moans, there were other more  _obvious_  signs.

He ran his free hand over one of these ‘signs’, feeling it become stiffer in his palm. The moans began to grow louder as he attended to him.

“Are you ready for me?” Jim asked after a few minutes, his voice low and coloured with lust, but it wasn’t impatient, it wasn’t unkind. He removed his fingers from Ed’s ass, but his other hand remained around his cock, continuing to stroke him.

Ed’s hands were clutching onto the side of the countertop that he was bent over, gripping so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.  

Amongst a series of pleasured moans, he whimpered out a ‘yes’. It was humiliating how undone Jim was making him. That must have been his plan all along. To be gentle and attentive and make it feel so damn  _good_  that he’d become no more than a keening mess underneath him. Well, Jim had another thing coming if he thought he was going to beg him to-

His thoughts were interrupted by Jim’s hand leaving his cock unattended so that he could slick up his own. He whined in protest and heard Jim chuckle behind him in response, his face became beet red.

“Ask nicely.” Jim rested a hand on one of his ass cheeks, spreading him, the head of his cock pressed against Ed’s hole, but not breaching him yet.

Before the words had even left his mouth, Ed berated himself for being so very pliant in the other man’s hands. His pride stinging, but his desire  _aching_ , he obediently murmured out, ‘Please, Jim.”


	11. Afraid, Humiliated, Disorientated (Nicewald x Falcone)

“Cobblepot?”  
  
Falcone might have not recognised his old underling, if it hadn’t been for the man’s distinctive limp. He was bundled in an large black coat, an oversized black bobble hat, and both garments just served to make him seem all the smaller. It was quite the transformation from the well tailored suits that Falcone was accustomed to seeing him in.  
  
When he turned around, the retired mob boss saw that his choice in clothing wasn’t the only thing that had changed.  
  
“Don Falcone?” His face lit up with a smile that was far brighter and far more innocent than Falcone recalled ever seeing before on the deceptive little snitch. “It’s so nice to see you! I thought you had left Gotham.”  
  
“I was just passing through to see an old friend.” His voice betrayed none of his surprise, Falcone had seen stranger sights than this before. Yet it was curious. He’d heard that after the death of his mother, Oswald’s empire had unravelled around him thanks to increased pressure from the police. It seemed that the new mayor wasn’t the type to sit back and waste time. He wanted to make a mark on the city and taking out the Penguin was a powerful way of doing just that.  
  
“You were released from Arkham?”  
  
“Y-Yes! I’m sane now,” The smaller man dug into the inside of his heavy coat and pulled out a slightly crumpled certificate that Falcone only half looked at. “See?”  
  
Instead of the certificate, the veteran mafioso’s eyes were drawn to Oswald’s hands. They trembled in his fingerless gloves.  Perhaps from the cold, perhaps from fear, perhaps from both. He beamed brightly, yet there was an anxiety to it too. Falcone concluded the trembles were at least partly due to fear.   
  
“Congratulations. I wish you all the best.” He reached out and placed a firm hand on Oswald’s shoulder.  
  
As Falcone began to leave, he caught a glimpse of an emotion besides fear on Oswald Cobblepot. It was one he hadn’t seen on the sly younger man’s face before. It was shame.  
  
Later that evening, as Falcone was sitting in his warm home, drinking an expensive drink and sitting in a comfortable chair, his mind drifted back to the trembling little man he had met that afternoon. He seemed so different from the man he’d known. So unsure of where he fit into the world, so afraid of all the darkness it held, so ashamed of all he had done. He faced it with a smile, but it was the smile of a man who was holding back the desire to cry. Falcone wondered if he had anywhere to sleep tonight.


	12. "All monsters are human." (Zsasz x Jim)

_“He’s not a monster, he’s just a man.”_

Jim remembered saying those words. He’d said them to Barbara, trying to reassure her that Victor Zsasz was not some ghoulish boogeyman, but a man of flesh and blood. One who could die, one he could protect her from.

Since that day, he had encountered the infamous assassin from time to time. Each instance had left the former detective feeling icy inside, and antsy, he stirred up an itch that Jim couldn’t quite scratch.

Jim thought he could read people pretty well. You couldn’t make it as a detective (or even a bounty hunter) if you didn’t have that skill in you. Sure, sometimes he got it wrong. But normally he at least had an _idea_  of what went on in another person’s head. With Victor, it wasn’t like that. He was like a void, a black hole, just… emptiness. Jim felt like he shouldn’t pay it any mind. Get too close to a void, stare for too long, and it would pull you in.

“Hello Jim. Long time, no see.”

Yes, it had been a long time. He’d been a detective the last time their paths had crossed. Yet the moment he’d heard Victor’s voice, and turned around to see his face, he remembered exactly why the man got underneath his skin every time they met. His eyes were somehow far more penetrating in the flesh than they ever appeared be in his memory.

Jim’s hand automatically went for his gun. They were in a bar, just a few blocks from his newest place. It wasn’t fancy, it wasn’t well known, and it was quiet. Why was Victor here? 

“What the hell are you doing here, Victor?” He asked, a suspicious growl in his voice. The last thing he needed today was for his favourite bar to be torn up in a shoot out between Gotham’s number one assassin and whatever unlucky bastard was his target.

“What? I have days off too, you know.” Victor sat down on the barstool beside him, a bounce to his movements. He looked up at the chalkboard menu behind the bar, then ran a finger along the air and moved his mouth silently as he read the list of choices. 

Jim couldn’t help staring. 

After about three minutes of this, the assassin finally made his order. “I’ll have the mac and cheese, and to drink…”  
  
  ‘Mac and cheese? Really?’ Jim thought to himself, but then it occurred to him. What would have been the more obvious choice? If he’d gone for the soup of the day, Jim would still have found it odd. 

Even a ‘monster’ had to eat.


	13. "You make me so hot." (Jim x Nicewald)

“Come here,” Jim’s voice was soft, but urgent. 

The smaller man was bundled up in layers of oversized clothing, they were to keep out the cold, but Jim held him tightly enough to feel the outline of the frail body hidden beneath them.

“Jim, you’ll crush me.” He squeaked, but he didn’t seem to mind so much. 

“Sorry.” He didn’t want to hurt him, he loosened his grip, and began to kiss him instead. Deep, hungry kisses that were enough to make Oswald become breathless all over again. 

“Jim… Jim, I…” His hands pawed at the other man’s chest, before settling for the lapels of Jim’s suit jacket, he clung to them. He wanted to return the kisses, but his head was spinning. Besides, Jim was so good at this. He might just ruin the mood if he tried. Jim’s lips kissed bitingly at his neck, Oswald remembered that he liked  _that_  very much. He moaned loudly, embarrassing himself by how desperate he must sound. Had he always been so loud? He couldn’t imagine ever not reacting like this when it felt so  _good_.

“Can I take you to bed?” Jim ceased kissing him briefly, rested his brow against his, his hands placed on the small of Oswald’s back. He longed to let them slide lower, to cup his ass and let his touches and kisses grow more and more intimate, but he had to remember Oswald’s delicacy. Since he’d come out of Arkham… Things had changed. He hadn’t ever thought they would do this again, so to have him so receptive once again was a wonderful surprise, but one he was cautious about abusing. 

Oswald had always been easily flustered when it came to intimacy. He had always gasped and moaned and been so very eager for every little touch. That hadn’t changed, but Oswald  _was_  different. Newfound innocence shone in his eyes, it nearly made Jim feel predatory to murmur lust filled statements like ‘You make me so hot.’ Even if they were true.

Oswald’s hands were shaking. He wasn’t afraid, but he was nervous. Did Jim really want him? The look in his eyes told him that he did. But his mind couldn’t help but drift back to Arkham. How he’d left him. 

Was he being so kind to him now because he felt bad about that? Was that all that this was?

“Oswald. I understand if this is too much, but I want you. I missed you.” Jim’s voice was soft and it sent shivers up the other man’s spine. He smiled, blinked away tears, and chided himself for doubting Jim’s intentions.

His old self might not have been so quick to forgive, but as he was now, Oswald wanted nothing more than to just have Jim back again. He had been a bad person, he’d done bad things, Jim leaving him in Arkham had helped him change. He had no right to be angry at him for that.

“Yes… Please Jim, I want you too.” He rested a trembling hand on Jim’s cheek, leaning into his lips as they began to kiss again.


	14. "Let's get you to bed." (Jim x Ed)

“You’re heavier than you look, Jimbo.” Ed muttered, a hint of amusement in his voice. He struggled to lift Jim onto his feet, but then he wrapped one of the unconscious detective’s arms around his shoulders and used it to help him hoist the lead weight up.

“I guess prison food must have agreed with you.” He chuckled at his smart ass remark, even though Jim wasn’t able to hear it. “Anyway, let’s get you to bed. I’ve got a few bits and pieces to put together before our little road trip.” 

Once Ed got him close enough, he let the other man’s limp body flop onto the bed with a thud. He could have just left him on the floor, that would have been easier, but something had compelled him to move him. Jim’s body lying there in a heap made him want to keep looking back over his shoulder to see if he had suddenly gotten up. If he was in bed, it just looked like he was sleeping. 

Ed knew it wasn’t logical. 

“Oh yes.” He shook his head at himself for nearly forgetting, and once he had Jim lying on his back, he opened up his jacket, running his slender hands over the slightly coarse fabric. Then, he did the same over Jim’s shirt, his pants. Couldn’t be too careful. Jim might have brought another weapon. He’d already taken the gun, but the last thing he wanted was for Jim to wake up and jab a hidden knife into his back. 

He found nothing.

“Tsk, tsk Jim. I expected better from you.” Ed closed the jacket back over, buttoned it up. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t stop to scrutinise it. 

However, he did find himself wondering why he bothered to brush a few strands of golden brown hair from Jim’s brow. Why his fingertips lingered on the lightly creased skin of his forehead. He quickly drew them away when he realised what he was doing. 

“Well, I’ll be right back.” He stood up from the bed, his words garnering no response from the unconscious man. It would take more than softly spoken mocking words to wake him now. If Ed had his way, he’d never wake again. Or maybe he would. It might be nice to have Jim know what was going to become of him. Yes… He would let him wake up again, one last time. Then he’d kill him.

“Don’t go anywhere.”


	15. "You belong to me." (Strange x Nicewald)

“As far as the city of Gotham is concerned, you are our ward. We are responsible for your care, your rehabilitation.”

“I understand, Professor Strange.”

“Now, Oswald. How many times must I tell you, call me Hugo.” 

“Yes, sorry. Hugo.” Oswald’s smile was tight, nervous. He really appreciated the amount of interest that Strange was taking in him. He must be a very busy man, yet he always seemed so pleased to speak to him, so interested in everything he had to say. Nonetheless, it was often difficult to speak about the things the psychiatrist wanted him to. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember them, it was just that when he thought back on the horrific things he had done… His entire body was overcome with a crawling, icy feeling that started in the pit of his stomach but soon spread everywhere. He wished that it didn’t have to be this way. He wished that he would hurry up and get better so that it would go away.

The psychiatrist adjusted his pink eyeglasses and looked Oswald over briefly, but probingly, catching the slight tremor in his hands, the barely noticeable twitching at the sides of his mouth. 

“Oswald, I know that you find this difficult. Adjusting to life in an institution such as this can come as a great shock. Giving up the freedoms you are used to, having all your meals and activities regulated, et cetera… But I assure you, it is for your own wellbeing.” He smiled reassuringly, feeling a secret sense of self satisfaction when he saw Oswald’s body start to relax. 

His benevolent smile gave away nothing of his true thoughts.

_‘Oh Oswald, barely a month and you belong to me. I thought you’d be more difficult than this.’_

He had the former King of Gotham in the palm of his hands. He was his to mold. He couldn’t wait to see the results.


	16. “I like you better on your knees.” (Jim x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing another prompt challenge and since they kind of fall under the smut and/or hurt/comfort genres, I thought I'd add them to this.

“Oh Jim…” Oswald ran a hand through the detective’s golden brown locks, savouring this moment. The oh-so righteous James Gordon, Gotham’s golden boy, was kneeling in front of him. He looked so debauched, with his face flushed pink and his lips parted slightly, moaning impatiently at each little touch Oswald gave him. He was eager to please his King.

“You’ve always looked so stern, so proper, so very noble… You’re quite the sight to behold.” He smiled, his hand trembling slightly at the thought. Jim  _was_  magnificent. “But I think I like you better on your knees. It’s where you belong. At my feet.”

He said it with such conviction that he nearly believed it himself. Jim nodded with a wanton groan. “Yes.” 

The simple word made Oswald feel weak at the knees. He grabbed onto Jim’s hair more tightly, yanking his head forward so that the detective could show his devotion with his mouth, and his tongue.

A moment later, and Oswald gasped awake. There was sweat on his brow and his heart hammered frantically in his chest. Jim was gone. The only evidence of what he had dreamed being the stain on his pyjama bottoms.


	17. "You know you want it." (Jim x Ed)

“You don’t need to pretend, you know you want it.” Jim shot him a smile that was too cocky and charming for his own good. Ed grunted stubbornly in response, shifting in his bonds. How had Jim managed to convince him to be tied to the bedposts, he’d never know.

“Of course, if you don’t… I can always stop.” As if to prove his point, Jim stopped stroking him, and Ed whined. 

“No. Don’t stop.” He replied, far too desperately for his liking. 

“So you want this?” Jim’s other hand stroked his own cock, and Ed bit his bottom lip, his eyes drawn to it. Jim noticed. “Come on, Ed. This little proud act you’ve got going on, it’s time to give it a rest.”

Ed continued to chew on his lip, then with a needy sigh, he nodded. 

“Yes, yes. I want it.”

Jim rewarded him with a few more gentle strokes, making Ed’s lithe body writhe slightly against the mattress. For someone so stubborn, he wasn’t very good at hiding what he wanted. 

“Tell me what you want.” Jim leaned down over him, began to kiss his neck, his jaw, taking in the subtle scent of Ed’s aftershave. 

Ed gasped, closing his eyes as he tried to restrain himself from bucking his hips up against Jim. His legs were still free, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap them around his waist and urge him to take him. But Jim wouldn’t, not until he said what he wanted. 

“I want you. Inside of me.” He swallowed deeply, then tentatively opened his eyes again. Jim kissed him on his cheek, the skin blushing pink. “Please hurry, I can’t hold on much longer.” He added, making Jim chuckle.

The detective knelt on the bed and poured some clear lube onto the palm of his hand before slicking up his length with it. He didn’t have any intention on keeping Ed waiting much longer, once he was done, he got close to him, and moved the other man’s long legs so they rested on his shoulders. Ed was shifting about on his back impatiently, his breath heavy and coloured with anticipation. 

“Hurry up.” Ed prompted again, with a whine. 

Jim gave his ass a sharp slap, making him jump and yelp in surprise.  
  
“You took long enough to admit that you wanted this. So don’t start complaining that  _I’m_  taking too long.” He pointed out, his tone playful, or at least, as playful as a man like Jim Gordon was capable of being. He rubbed over the area that he had swatted, making Ed wait a few more seconds before he thrust into him. 

Jim’s thrusts were fast and firm and Ed quickly began filling the room with his moans of pleasure. The bed creaked slightly beneath them, making Jim relieved that this building didn’t have a basement apartment.

“J-Jim… I… Ah!”

“It’s okay. Cum for me.” The detective urged, giving his ass another slap and then another. Ed tried to deny it, but judging by the noises he always made, he seemed to enjoy when Jim did that to him in bed. Knowing that Ed was teetering on the edge, he ran his hands over his thighs, settling them on the other man’s hips and gripping firmly.

A few moments later and Ed cried out, his back arching and his eyes squeezing shut as Jim’s hips continued to move against him, letting him ride out every second of his orgasm. At some point in those few brief, but intense, seconds, Jim joined him.  A lower and quieter grunt escaped his lips, but Ed barely noticed. Something Jim had had to learn to accept about having Ed as a lover was that the man was incurably self-centred.


	18. “I hope you don’t plan on walking much tomorrow.” (Zsasz x Jim)

“I hope you don’t plan on walking much tomorrow,” Jim leaned over the assassin’s shoulder, whispering the words into his ear. He  _had_ been glad that the other man couldn’t see his face, but then Victor turned to look at him, and Jim shifted awkwardly. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” He grumbled, growing embarrassed.

Victor smirked, seemingly amused by the attempt at dirty talk. “Nice try, Jim.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Give me a break.” 

“No, no, it really did add to the mood.”

“Shut up.” Jim grunted, kissing him on the lips to do just that. He might not be able to wow Victor with words, but his actions were more than enough to make up for the bounty hunter’s inexperience at flirting and innuendo. 

He thrust into the assassin, his hands running over his back, feeling the lean muscle beneath his palms, before gripping onto his hips to keep himself anchored. The thrusts were short, but deep and firm, they soon had Victor groaning in pleasure. Yes, Jim definitely made up for his clumsy way with words when it came to this.

Victor wondered if he should try gagging him.


	19. “You suit being on your knees.” (Bullock x Oswald)

“You’ve done pretty well for yourself, Penguin. Very swish. You got a throne and everything.” Harvey ran a hand through Oswald’s hair, gently at first, before he gripped the raven locks tight enough to make the smaller man gasp.  “But you suit being on your knees better.”

“Please!” He yelped, raising his hands to shield his face from any blows that the grizzled detective might dish out upon his person. He expected it. After all, Harvey had said that he owed him a beating for Fish. Perhaps he had decided to make good on that promise.

“Relax. I’m not going to hit you. I  _should_ , but I’m not.” 

Oswald relaxed slightly.

“Then… You’ll let me go?” He asked tentatively, peering up at the detective through his spread fingers, a nervous but slightly hopeful smile on his face.

‘Still a little umbrella boy at heart, aren’t you, Oswald?’ Harvey thought to himself, somewhere between amusement and pity. 

“Yeah. This time.” He said, after waiting a few seconds, letting Oswald sweat a bit. ‘Besides, I rough you up and you’ll send your goons after me the moment I turn my back.” He added, not wanting the word to get out that Harvey Bullock was going soft.

“You’re a very wise man, Detective Bullock.” Oswald praised, getting onto his feet with a little bit of difficulty. A slightly cocky tone had began to return to his voice and Bullock began to regret not roughing the punk up a little. Just a little. Just for being arrogant.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get out of here before I change my mind.” He warned, resisting the urge to go back on his decision. He’d been telling the truth. Oswald might seem like the same little umbrella boy to him, but he was a powerful man now. He had connections. He’d pay the price if he gave him a well deserved beating. What bothered Harvey though, was that wasn’t the real reason he’d let him off. 

What was the reason? He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

He chose to call it pity, and file it away in the big box of ‘things I shouldn’t think about’ inside of his own head.


	20. "You're not the boss of me." (Oswald x Jim)

To say that Oswald was sorely regretting pushing Jim Gordon was an understatement. He was really, really,  _really_ regretting pushing Jim Gordon. He had realised the exact moment that he’d went too far.  
  
 _“You’re not the boss of me!”_  
  
He cringed at the memory of that little outburst. It was costing him dearly. Of course, he’d rapidly blurted out apologies and promises. Anything and everything he could think of that might persuade the detective to stay his hand, but they were all in vain. Jim had already decided what he was going to do to him.  
  
“Jim, p-please! We can talk about this!” He whined, hoping that if he sounded desperate enough, Jim might just take pity on him. Not that sounding desperate required much acting, getting a sound spanking over the knee of Gotham’s newest detective saw to that.  
  
“The time for talking has passed, Cobblepot. Clearly, just talking about things wasn’t having much of an effect on you.” The stern determination of Jim’s tone made Oswald despair. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. His backside already stung incredibly, but Jim hadn’t let up at all. “Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative after this.”  
  
“I a-assure you! You have made your point! More cooperative! I understand!” Oswald pleaded. He wailed as his words had no effect and Jim turned his attention to his sit spots, quickly slapping them into the same, painful hue that the rest of his bottom was.  
  
“Please stop!” The fledgling mobster cried, his arms flailing around uselessly. He knew how pathetic he must look and sound, but he was beyond the point of attempting to take this with any dignity. Beatings were bad enough, but being pulled over someone’s lap and having one’s pants and underwear pulled down, then  _spanked_ …! It was as if Jim saw his attempts to manoeuvre amongst the criminal underworld as no more than the actions of a disobedient child! That added an extra layer of pain to the whole ordeal. Not least because, despite his better judgment, he had grown rather fond of Jim. Out of everyone, Jim seeing him like this was simply too much to bear!  
  
“No more lies.”  
  
  “Y-Yes! No more lies!”  
  
  “No more tricks.”  
  
“Of course! Please stop!”  
  
  “And the next time I ask for a favour, an important favour, no more insisting that you won’t do it because I already ‘owe’ you one.”  
  
“Yes! P-Please! Ah! I can’t take any more!”   
  
Jim’s hand delivered a last swat, making the thoroughly humbled man over his lap whimper piteously. When he realised it was over, he felt like crying from relief. However, he was already in tears, so whether they were out of relief or out of how much his butt hurt seemed irrelevant.  
  
“Alright then. I’m going to hold you to that. Don’t make me regret trusting you again.”  
  
Oswald nodded, sniffling, using the backs of his hands to rub away some of his tears. Jim couldn’t help but sigh. Although part of him hadn’t been surprised that Oswald hadn’t exactly taken the spanking with a stiff upper lip, he didn’t much like reducing the smaller man to tears. Even if he probably, no,  _definitely_ , deserved it.  
  
“Come on. Get up. You don’t have all day to lie over me crying like this.” He was surprised by the softness of his voice, and even more surprised when he found himself with a hand on Oswald’s back.  
  
Oswald seemed surprised too, but despite how shamed and sore he felt, he couldn’t help but appreciate the small gesture of comfort. He reached back and pulled up his lower garments, then shuffled off of the detective’s lap, his movements a little awkward. His eyes were still red from crying but he seemed to be making an effort to calm the shudders in his breath down. He supposed that not being able to sit comfortably for a day or two was better than being thrown into prison.


	21. "I can think of a few ways to shut you up." (Jim x Ed)

“One day your mouth is going to get you into trouble,” Jim growled, pinning the taller man’s wrists against the wall as he kissed him. He kissed deeply, bitingly, hard enough to bruise. The kiss didn’t shut Ed up for long. As soon as they parted for breath, he started to speak again.

“My purpose isn’t to please, but I work well when my owner is on his knees. What am I?” The lascivious expression on Ed’s face gave Jim a hint, but he wasn’t in the mood for games. 

“I don’t care.” The detective let go of Ed’s wrists, instead using his hands to unbutton the other man’s shirt, to tug off his green silk tie. He was about to throw it aside and turn his attention to the newly exposed flesh, but then an idea flashed into his mind.   
  
“The answer is a tongue.” Ed revealed, his tone suggestive, not allowing Jim’s ill humour to alter his own enjoyment. 

“I see. Is that an offer, Ed?” Jim smiled, wolfishly, and the sudden shift in expression took Ed by surprise. 

“It… It is.” His eyes went to his necktie, still in Jim’s hands. Why hadn’t he gotten rid of it yet?

Jim noticed, feeling a certain satisfaction at the perplexed expression on the taller man’s face. “Tempting offer, and it would be nice to have you use your mouth for something other than talking. But I can think of a few ways to shut you up besides that.”

“I would  _think_  you’d enjoy me fellating you more than sticking a tie in my mouth.” Ed pointed out, growing a little nervous as he watched the detective tie a chunky knot in the middle of the necktie. “Jim, are you listening to me?” He asked, the pitch of his voice raising a little. 

“I heard you, Ed. Be a good boy, open your mouth for me.” 

“Ji- Mfh!” The moment he opened his mouth, the homemade gag was stuffed in. Jim grabbed his shoulder and turned him around to face the wall, tying each end of the green fabric around the other man’s head in a tight knot. 

The tie wasn’t as effective as a store bought gag. He could still hear the vague outlines of words coming from Ed’s mouth. Words of surprise and outrage. He knew that he probably shouldn’t enjoy them as much as he did. 

His hand slapped against Ed’s ass, it was over his pants, but the sudden, sharp impact still drew out a muffled cry nonetheless. Ed’s head arched back, prompting Jim to run a hand through the other man’s dark brown hair, tugging at it slightly. “Bend over,” He ordered, and Ed obeyed, with no backtalk, no riddles, no smarmy remarks. 

Jim decided that he would definitely like to do this again. He reached forwards with his remaining hand and unbuckled Ed’s belt, reaching inside the front of his pants to give him some attention, as a reward for doing as he was told. Ed grunted, bucking his hips against Jim’s hand. The detective chuckled slightly and continued to stroke him. Judging by  _that_  reaction, he wasn’t the only one who would like to do this again.


	22. "On your knees." (Fish x Oswald)

“Remember your place, boy.” Fish instructed, a pointed purple fingernail poking into Oswald’s chin. 

“Yes, Miss Mooney.” He replied dutifully, his voice trembling slightly. 

“You belong to me.” She reminded him. Her voice level and stern. The nail pressing a little more firmly against his flesh.   
  
“Yes, Miss Mooney.” He replied, his voice trembling more.

She removed her finger from beneath his chin and took a few steps back, he felt like he could breathe again. For the moment. She folded her arms across her chest as she observed the nervy young man standing before her.

“I hear you’ve been getting uppity recently. Do I need to teach you a lesson in respect, Oswald?” She asked.  
  
 “No, Miss Mooney. Please. I-“ 

She cut off his pleading with a sharp glare. The raven haired young man swallowed thickly, lowering his eyes to the floor and murmuring a quiet apology. She tutted. It seemed that a lesson in respect was needed after all. She couldn’t pretend that she was sorry about that.

“On your knees, Penguin. It’s how I like you best. It’s how you belong.” Fish commanded, pointing to the ground with the same finger that had been jabbed into the bottom of his chin. 

Her harsh words made him cringe. He hated that little nickname that she had for him. He had no doubt that she was aware of that. She tended to use it when she wanted to demean him.

“Please, Miss Mooney, don’t-“ He began to plead again, but she interrupted him with a slap to the face. He yelped and flinched back, raising his hands to shield himself from any further strikes. 

“On your knees!” She repeated, her temper spiking sharply at his stalling. Her hand stung from the impact and a pink mark began to blossom on his cheek. “Unless you want me to beat your ass twice, you’ll get on your knees right now.”

The pale young man seemed to grow even paler at that. He fell to his knees, not saying anything, but his mind racing to find a way out of the unfortunate situation that he had found himself in.

“Good.  _Better_.” Fish nodded, observing him pointedly for a few moments before she walked past him, her heels clacking against the floor. “I’ll be back in a moment. Don’t you  _dare_  move.”

With that, Oswald was left on his own. Left to fret and worry about what she would to do him once she got back. He had fears of course, but he couldn’t know for certain. Fish could be unpredictable, cruel, and imaginative. 

His heart hammered in his chest as he waited, and his knees soon began to ache against the club’s hard floor. Fish took her time. She knew he would be worrying, would be frightened, and that was part of his lesson. Besides, she couldn’t for the life of her remember where she had left her damn riding crop.


	23. "Tell me you want this." (Oswald x Zsasz)

The smaller man gasped, his face blushing bright pink as the assassin pressed his wiry body against his back, his hips grinding against his ass. It felt so good, but this had to be wrong, didn’t it? 

Victor Zsasz was a part of his old life. He wasn’t that man anymore. He had changed.

“V-Victor… I’m sorry but I-“ He began to stammer, attempting to ignore how the attention was making his heart race and his knees weaken.

The taller man shushed him and ran his hands over his torso. One moved upwards and held his throat, squeezing gently and making Oswald gasp again.  The other went downwards, rubbed him through his pants and made him moan helplessly. 

“We shouldn’t.. I mean, we, I… I’ve changed.” Oswald pleaded, trying to persuade himself as much as he was Victor. 

“Not so much,” Came the response, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Stop fighting it, boss. You know you want it.” 

Oswald bit his bottom lip, whimpering softly. His cock was hardening in the assassin’s hand. Victor leaned in and began to attend to his exposed throat with biting kisses. The former crime lord nearly came there and then. It had been so long since he had last felt anyone’s hands on him. Anyone apart from the coarse hands of orderlies as they strapped him down for ‘therapy’ that was. 

“Tell me you want this.” Victor whispered in his ear, his breath soft against his skin.

Oswald whined, he knew he should resist. But he didn’t want to. Maybe he wasn’t reformed after all. Maybe he was still the same person who had done all those terrible things. He swallowed thickly, blinking as tears came to his eyes.

“Yes… I want this.” He confessed, hoping that the pleasure Victor would give him might numb the feeling of guilt that threatened to consume him from the inside out.


	24. "Try and stop me." (Oswald x Jim)

“So you’re not going to help me?” Jim asked, growing tired of Oswald’s hemming and hawing. It was almost as if the newly crowned ‘King of Gotham’ was deliberately wasting time in order to keep him around. That was ridiculous though… Wasn’t it?

Oswald had everything he had worked for in his grasp. He had power, respect, and an army of underlings that he could force to spend time with him. Jim didn’t understand why the smaller man would bother stalling if it was just for the ‘pleasure’ of his company, but that was what it felt like he was doing.

“I could, Jim, I could, but it would put me in a very awkward position. The man you want to arrest… Well, let’s just say he has some powerful friends.” The kingpin explained, looking for too pleased with himself for someone who was claiming that doing a favour was ‘awkward’ for him.

“Not more powerful than you.” Jim grunted, to which Oswald smiled widely. The detective restrained the urge to roll his eyes. Oswald should be careful, he ate up flattery far too eagerly.   
  
“That’s true.” The smaller man agreed, sounding pleased that Jim had admitted that he was powerful. He paused for a moment, then signalled for the hired muscle to exit the room. Without a word, the two goons turned to leave them alone. “If I do this for you… I trust you’ll do something for me in return?”

Oswald leaned forwards in his chair with a keen grin, it was more like a throne really, and Jim wondered if the nature of the favour Oswald wanted was really private enough to justify that. Maybe he had just wanted it to seem that way. Either way, he couldn’t sit here and listen to anymore of Oswald’s feigned indecisiveness. If he wasn’t going to help him on his own accord, then he would just have to ‘encourage’ him. 

“You could say that.” Jim replied, the cryptic nature of his words making Oswald frown in confusion for a moment before that quizzical expression was replaced by one of shock. The detective grabbed him by the arm and yanked him to his feet. The chairs had armrests, so he took a seat on the edge of the table and bent the smaller man over his lap, his upper half laying against the flat wooden surface, his legs pinned between two of Jim’s. 

Oswald’s face quickly turned scarlet and he squawked in alarm. “Jim! You can’t-“

“Try and stop me.” 

His hand descended hard on the seat of Oswald’s pinstriped pants, earning another sharp cry from the pinned man. 

“Jim, this is- I- This is uncalled for!” He stammered, his voice warbling as his mind raced, trying to comprehend what the detective was doing to him. He gasped as his words were ignored and he was smacked again. “Jim!”

“I wouldn’t shout so loudly if I were you, you don’t want your men to hear this and come to your rescue.” Jim pointed out, his own voice far more collected than Oswald’s. “I imagine that would be a bit embarrassing for you.”

He was right. 

While he wanted Jim to stop, he couldn’t have his men come in to stop it and have them see him like this. The hand descended again and he yelped, unable to help himself. He bit down on his sleeve to try to stop himself from crying out.

“Jim, you’re being unreasonable- Ah!” He had tried to whisper the words out, but then another slap had landed and he’d yelped out anyway. He whined in frustration, twisting over the other man’s lap, trying to wriggle free. Two more swats landed, he whined desperately. “F-Fine, favour is done! Let me up!” He moaned, yielding, but resenting that it had taken Jim so little time to get him to agree to his terms when using _this_ method. 

Jim knew that he really _should_ let him up _._ Despite his best efforts, Oswald wasn’t doing a very good job at keeping quiet, and if his men did come bursting back into the room, he could end up with a bullet hole between his eyes. Still though, something irrational in him made him not stop just yet. His hand dished out a last round of hard slaps that had Oswald gasping and covering his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle his cries. 

Then he let him up. 


	25. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” (Zsasz x Ed)

Ed was exhausted, worn out, he had been on his feet all day. He wanted nothing more than to just lie down and get a good night’s rest. He opened the door to his bedroom, took a step in, then stopped. His dark eyes, previously half closed with sleep, widened, and he stumbled backwards, into the door. 

Stretched out on top of his bed was Victor Zsasz. Completely naked. His arms folded behind his head, every inch of him on display. He didn’t seem disturbed that he had been walked in on. He didn’t make a move to cover himself or start apologising, he just chuckled slightly in amusement at Ed’s reaction. 

“Hey there.” 

Ed swallowed deeply and lowered his eyes, but it was too late. The image of the assassin’s naked body was already etched into his mind.

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”  He asked after a moment of collecting himself, trying to make sure that his voice would sound as steady as was possible. Ed straightened his glasses, trying to chase away the blush on his cheeks by listing prime numbers in his head. It didn’t work.

“Huh?” Victor sat up, cross legged, but it didn’t seem like he intended to go anywhere. Or get dressed.

“I  _said_ , is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” He repeated, more impatiently. 

“Oh. Well, Penguin said I could stay the night and your room is the nicest so-“

“But why are you  _naked_?”

“I didn’t bring pyjamas with me.”

Ed didn’t know what to say to that. 

“Relax. I’ll go.” Victor conceded, finally moving off of the bed and Ed made the mistake of looking over again. He looked just as the other man was bending over to pick up his clothes. He gasped slightly and turned away again. Victor smirked.

He held his rolled up clothes in one hand, his shoes in another, and walked past Ed slowly, deliberately, still naked, his bare skin just an inch away from brushing against Ed. 

The poor guy looked so tense, like a single touch might just unravel him completely. Victor had to fight the urge to do just that. He had work in the morning, and Ed was clearly exhausted. There were dark, tired smudges on his bottom eyelids. A little sweat on his brow. Although, that sweat might not be there because he was  _tired_.

“Goodnight. Sleep well.” The assassin said, his voice soft, and it made Ed shift uncomfortably against the hard surface of the door.

He nodded wordlessly, but then forced out a “Goodnight.”

He wished that he hadn’t.

His voice cracked slightly, and he caught the way that Victor’s smile widened for a moment before he sauntered to the room next door. Ed closed his eyes to stop them following him. 

When he heard the door close, he sighed heavily. Finally able to breathe again. 

“Oh my.”


	26. Rimming (Jim x Nicewald)

Oswald pressed his face against his forearms, whimpering keenly as Jim’s tongue attended to him. It was too much. Every lap of that muscular organ made him whine and tremble. It felt too good. He thought he must be filthy to like it as much as he did. He bit down on his bottom lip, trying to stifle his moans, they were probably annoying Jim anyway.

Jim’s hands squeezed the other man’s hips gently, sometimes moving back a bit to spread his cheeks, to make access to his hole easier. Sometimes he dipped down to lick the sensitive space just between Oswald’s balls and his entrance, and even Oswald biting his lip couldn’t keep him from mewling then.

The pleasure just kept building, and Oswald fought the urge to rock his hips backwards, little gasps of effort coming from him. Jim stopped, and Oswald gasped again. More loudly. 

“You don’t need to hold out on me. I want to hear you.” Jim told him, sitting back, his hand running over the trembling curve of Oswald’s back. He had noticed the change in him, noticed that something seemed to be wrong.

Oswald nodded but was silent. 

Jim wondered if he didn’t believe him. 

“I mean it. I want to hear you.” He insisted. He leaned forwards and used his other hand to press two fingers against him, massaging the entrance, Oswald whimpered again. “It’s okay.” He soothed, moving his hand for a moment to retrieve a bottle of lubricant. A few clear drops were all that was needed to make the digits slick enough. “Don’t you want this?”

Oswald swallowed hard, struggled to find the words.

“It’s okay if you don’t.”

Tears blurred his vision and he felt like a fool. Jim was so kind, and he… 

“No, I do. I really… I really do.” He confessed, the desperation clear in his voice. Not just for sex, but for  _Jim_. “But I don’t deserve it.”

That made Jim’s chest tighten and he rubbed his hand over Oswald’s back again. He dipped his head down, kissed him on the shoulder blade, the spine, the small of his back. Oswald sighed softly, but his breathing began to relax, the tears that had threatened to spill were blinked back. 

“I want you too.” Jim assured him, when he had finished kissing him “So let me hear you this time, okay? You don’t need to hold back. I want you, Oswald.” His fingertips pressed against his hole again, slowly pushing in, and Oswald let himself moan.


	27. Car Sex (Oswald x Maroni)

It was always in the car, never in a bed.  
  
Maroni seemed to like it that way.  
  
Oswald didn’t.  
  
But he was willing to keep his complaints to himself if it meant keeping Maroni happy. He didn’t delude himself into thinking this meant Maroni had a special place for him in his heart, the older man just liked to see him sweat. Liked to remind him who was boss. Oswald had met plenty of his type in the criminal underworld. They liked to show off their power and they would swear blind that they weren’t a queer, but they wouldn’t say no to a man sucking their cock. (Not that Oswald had been subjected to that particular task before Maroni had made him kneel down in front of him, but he had heard plenty of stories.)  
  
“Fuck…” The mob boss let his head loll back as his thick fingers tangled in Oswald’s dark hair. He didn’t let him draw back and Oswald breathed heavily through his nose, struggling not to choke as the other man’s load was emptied into his mouth. Only when he was finished did he let him go. Oswald wiped his lips with the back of his hands, forcing himself to swallow.  
  
Maroni would normally light a cigar at this point, but this time he didn’t. Once Oswald had shifted back awkwardly into the car seat beside him, he was aware of the larger man’s eyes still on him. Before he had a chance to question it, Maroni answered him.  
  
“Take your pants down.”  
  
Oswald’s eyes widened and he immediately caught onto what Maroni wanted. His heart sped up inside of his narrow chest, hammering mercilessly. “D-Don Maroni… I…”  
  
“You deaf? I said take them down.” Maroni sounded impatient and Oswald found himself complying, his hands going to unclip his suspenders then undo his fly. They were shaking. When he had tugged down his pants, struggling a bit over his shoes, he could hear Maroni chuckle. “Your underwear too.”  
  
The younger man’s face turned scarlet but he found that words of protest became stuck in his throat. He did as he was told.  
  
“Good boy. Now come here.”Oswald didn’t know exactly what he meant by ‘come here’, but it turned out not to matter as Maroni grabbed him, guiding him over so that he had him sitting on his lap. Deep kisses followed, kisses that were tinged with the taste of expensive alcohol and cigars and strong cologne. They should have probably been more unpleasant than they were, but there was something animalistic and exciting about the kisses, coupled with the rough groping of Maroni’s large hands.  
  
“You a virgin, Oswald?” The words caught Oswald by surprise, and because he knew how unwound he would sound if he spoke, he merely nodded. “Nice.”   
  
The wolfish way that Maroni said that word worried him, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before a few firm strokes sent him over the edge with his body trembling against Maroni’s and his seed spilling out onto the mob boss’ hand. It hadn’t been very long, but as he had told Maroni, he was new to this. Sucking off someone was one thing, being fondled and kissed and stroked was something quite different.  
  
“Maybe we’ll fix that sometime.” It took Oswald a moment or two to catch onto what Maroni meant. Then he realised. The younger man swallowed deeply and as the pleasure of the orgasm began to ebb away, he was instead filled with uneasiness, dread. He nodded again, because he couldn’t refuse the man who was such an important stepping stone to him getting everything that he had worked for.  
  
“Yes, Don Maroni.”


	28. "Kiss me." (Jim x Ed)

Affection had not come easily for them. How could it after all that happened?  
  
They had fucked half a dozen times before they had kissed, and when they had kissed for the first time, it had been rough and unforgiving, hard enough to bruise.  
  
When had things started to change? Neither man knew for sure.  
  
Ed thought it had been when Jim had wrapped an arm around him after sex, and told him not to bother leaving since it was stormy out. Jim thought it had been when Ed had agreed to stay.  
  
“Kiss me.”  
  
It sounded like a demand, but it had the desperation of a prayer. A few weeks ago, even after they had began sleeping with each other, Ed would have turned his nose up at the thought of Jim kissing him. Things had changed. He wanted to be kissed.  
  
“If it’ll shut you up for a few seconds,” Jim replied gruffly, as if it was a favour to the other man, but the eagerness of the kiss that followed could not have came from reluctant lips.  
  
He knew that he should hate Ed for everything that he’d done. Kissing him should have been the last thing that he wanted to do. But it wasn’t.  
  
Things changed. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. Change didn’t always pay attention to what was ‘right’ or ‘wrong’, and one could either resist it, or give in to it. Jim gave in to it.


	29. Their First Time (Ed x Oswald

“Oh… Ed…” The smaller man whimpered, completely undone by the kisses to his neck and jaw. They left deep pink marks in their wake, marks that could not be effectively hidden by a shirt collar.

Oswald’s voice was soft, gentle, and full of something that Ed nearly believed was affection. For a moment, it was hard to believe that he could be responsible for something as monstrous as killing Isabella. 

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” Ed murmured, stroking himself as he prepared Oswald. His long fingers slick with lubricant and pushing in and out, perhaps a little too roughly. Oswald was gasping sharply, and his eyes were squeezed shut, but no complaints that it hurt passed his lips. 

When he was ready, Ed removed his fingers and gripped Oswald’s waist, turning him over onto his stomach. There was a small noise of protest from him, but no words. Ed narrowed his eyes slightly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a sliver of impatience making it into his words. 

“Nothing.” Oswald’s voice was quiet. He felt Ed’s hand run over his back, and believed it to be soothing. He swallowed deeply, opening his mouth with the plan to say something like ‘But I’d like to see you.’ Ed interrupted him by thrusting deep inside, and the intended words were replaced with a sharp cry.

Whimpers followed, near silent tears, and yet Ed didn’t seem to notice his discomfort. Should he tell him? He didn’t want to ruin things. The first time must always hurt. For all he knew, this was normal. It wasn’t Ed’s fault.

Ed’s fingertips dug into Oswald’s hips, hard enough to mark the pale skin, hard enough to ache. He continued to keep thrusting into him, the pleasure building inside of him steadily until it exploded all of a sudden, and he came with a shuddering moan. No similar sound of pleasure came from Oswald’s lips, he was still whimpering. Pathetically.

“Oswald,” He moved back from him a bit, releasing his grip and instead running his hand over the other man’s back again. “I’m sorry, did it hurt?”

He didn’t get a response, apart from a small wet sound that could have been a sob. 

Despite everything, Ed found himself grimacing slightly at that. He told himself that it was absurd to feel pity for him now. After everything Oswald had done. Everything he’d taken from him.

Inconvenient memories of everything Oswald had given him played in his mind. 

There were other, more recent inconvenient memories that bothered him too. How much Oswald had wanted to do this with him, how eager and responsive he’d been to every little caress and kiss.

“Oswald,” Ed repeated, trying to harden himself to the thoughts that were troubling him, but Oswald’s sniffling wasn’t helping things. “You didn’t finish, did you? Maybe we can try again-“

“N-No, no I’m fine.” 

Ed paused, but said nothing. No apologies or reassurances. After all, Oswald didn’t deserve them. However, for reasons he didn’t quite understand, he continued to stroke Oswald’s back until his breath began to steady and the whimpers ceased.


	30. Please, don't leave." (Oswald x Zsasz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompts for this short piece were "Please, don't leave." and “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”.

“Come on, little birdie, no need to be shy.” Victor’s kisses were electric. Each one sent tremors up and down Oswald’s entire body, and he clung to the assassin like a lifeline. “I know you like me, and I like you.”  
  
“H-How do you know I like you?” Oswald demanded, a last ditch attempt at defiance, but it only made Victor chuckle.  
  
“Well, apart from  _this_ …” Victor’s gloved hand slid down to rub the hard length hidden in his employer’s pants, “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”  
  
He continued to stroke Oswald’s cock, making him gasp and whine, and his cheeks turn a very bright shade of pink. He realised that if he wasn’t careful to pace his touches, the little bird might end up shooting his load in his pants. That would be a shame, because as fun as it was to watch his boss squirm, he could think of things that he could do to him that would be even more fun.  
  
“Of course, if that’s not the case… If you  _don’t_  like me… I can leave.” He smirked, slowing his strokes until they stopped completely. Oswald whimpered.  
  
“No… Please, don’t leave.” He begged, no longer caring how desperate he sounded.  
  
Victor’s smile widened, and he gradually began to stroke Oswald again.


	31. Bad Sex (Jim x Ed)

Jim hadn’t been this adventurous before. Barbara had playfully teased him for it in the past. ‘Captain Vanilla’, that’s what she’d called him. 

“This is a mistake.” Jim muttered to himself, but he muttered it while unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’ll be fun.” Ed replied, reaching forwards to help him, to rush him. He had already taken his own shirt off.

“Someone might see.” Jim reminded him, voice hushed, incase that ‘someone’ heard them.

“It’s unlikely. I researched this park, and it’s practically abandoned at this time of year. Apart from on national holidays.”

Jim rolled his eyes at that. It was so like Ed to have an answer prepared. 

“So don’t worry. Okay?”

The detective sighed roughly and tossed his shirt aside once Ed had undone the last button. “Fine.”

—

Despite his reservations about going through with this, Jim began to let himself enjoy it. Ed had been right, there was a thrill to doing it somewhere where they could be caught. As long as they weren’t actually, Jim would be happy.

“A-Ah! Oh god…” He held onto Ed’s waist a little tighter, his hips moving faster, firmer against the other man’s ass as he grew close to his climax when suddenly-

A crash of thunder. 

Rain.

He was tempted to keep going, but Ed shrieked, and it kind of broke the mood.

“Let’s get back to the car.” He suggested, aching at being stopped so suddenly, and when he had been so _close._

Ed nodded hurriedly and collected up their clothes in his arms. The rain was so heavy that they were already soaking wet. 

—

The two men ran to their car and got inside. Ed opened the glasses case that he’d left in the glove compartment and wiped the lenses dry with the cloth inside. They were both still naked, apart from their shoes. 

“We could always finish in here,” Jim suggested tentatively, but he sensed that Ed would be less enthusiastic.

“No… No, you were right. Better to go home. This was a foolish idea when we have a perfectly good bed.”

Jim smirked slightly. Ed admitting that he had been wrong about something was a rare event, but it was hard to be too smug about it when he had started to enjoy himself. What was a little rain anyway?


	32. "No one needs to know." (Strange x Nicewald)

“No one needs to know.”

Hugo’s words were meant to be soothing, but they did nothing except make Oswald’s heart pound in his chest with anxiety. 

Lies were bad. Deceit was wrong. Honesty was good.

If no one needed to know, how could this be good?

Other people could talk freely about their relationships. They could discuss their partners and what they felt for them. However, those people hadn’t done all that he had. It must be a privilege of the free to talk about such things. A privilege he was no longer entitled to.

“What’s the matter, Oswald? You look worried.” The Professor’s brow crinkled slightly in concern and Oswald forced a smile onto his face.

“It’s nothing.” He assured him, but the look he got back told him that he hadn’t been very convincing.

“Okay then.”

Hugo didn’t press him. That was unexpected.

Oswald felt the other man’s lips against his neck and he moaned softly. Obediently. 

Hugo was probably right. It was probably best no one knew about this.


	33. "Are you drunk?" (Oswald x Zsasz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place sometime around 3x13.

“Are you drunk?” 

It was a silly question. The empty wine bottle that Oswald was loosely gripping by the neck gave Victor the answer. 

“You should take better care of yourself, boss.” He really meant that. Oswald had always had a bit of a habit of drinking one too many glasses, but ever since Nygma had left… 

It would be so much simpler if Oswald just gave him the nod to go take Nygma out. Then he could start to move on. He could stop drinking himself into unconsciousness every night. He could get back to being his old self.

“Victor, I overslept… I-“ Oswald sat up clumsily, a grimace twisting his features when his head throbbed in protest of the sudden movement. “What time is it? Did Ed call?”

“It’s nearly twelve o’clock, and no, he didn’t call.” 

Oswald buried his face in his hands and Victor thought for a moment that he might be crying. 

“Let me find him. I can make him come back. I can even make him love you, if that’s what you want.” Victor didn’t want that, but he’d do it if it was what Oswald wanted. The heart was a funny thing.

“No.” Oswald replied, very slowly removing his hands from his face. Instead, he ran them through his hair. It was sticking up at all angles and looked like it could do with a wash. “Victor, you’re not to touch Ed. He’ll come back. He just… He just needs time.”

Victor wondered how much time Oswald would need when Ed finally told him that he wasn’t coming back. 

“Yes boss.” He said obediently, because he had to. Oswald wouldn’t want to listen to anything else.

“Get me another bottle of wine.” Oswald ordered impatiently, but the words shook, and it sounded like he might just fall apart and begin sobbing at any moment. 

“Yes boss.” Victor couldn’t refuse him, but he’d get him a mug of coffee, a couple of painkillers, and something to eat as well.


	34. "Stay with me." (Zsasz x Ed)

“Stay with me.” 

“I can’t.”

Ed blinked. He hadn’t expected Victor to refuse him. 

“Why not?” He laughed a little, trying to hide the dread that quickly began to build up inside of him and swirl around his stomach. One of Victor’s hands tangled in his brown locks, but the action was not as soothing as the assassin probably thought it was. In fact, the contrast between the affection of Victor’s caresses and the coldness of his refusal confused Ed. “We make a good team, and with Oswald gone-“

“With Oswald gone I don’t see much point in sticking around.” Victor shrugged. His honesty was truly brutal and it left Ed feeling wounded, bruised, cut… 

“You don’t think that I can make a name for myself without him?” His voice began to raise in anger, in hurt. “Is that what you are implying?”

Before he got his answer, he sat up and removed himself from Victor’s embrace. He began to pick up his clothes, he suddenly didn’t like being exposed before him. He needed the protection of a well tailored suit to shield him from Victor’s honesty.

“It’s not that.” The assassin sat up too, watching Ed as he dressed himself.

“Then what is it? Why can’t you stay with me?” 

“I like you, but I liked him too. It feels wrong to have one without the other.” 

Ed’s hands began to tremble. He found it impossible to finish buttoning up his shirt. Instead, he brought his shaking hands up to his face and ran them over it, a bitter laugh coming from his lips that would have chilled anyone who wasn’t Victor Zsasz. Victor didn’t even flinch.

“He said that too.” Ed finally said, when his laughter had died down. His eyes were shiny and wet. It felt redundant to clarify who ‘he’ was. 

Victor’s face was unreadable, and for a moment Ed wondered if he had said too much. Would Victor kill him for killing Oswald? He surprised himself by how little he cared. 

“I see.” The assassin shook off whatever emotion he had been feeling and bounced off of the bed. He bundled up his black clothes into his arms. “I’m going to use the shower before I go. That cool?”

Ed couldn’t speak. He nodded slowly. 

Victor passed by him, closed the door that led to the bathroom behind him, and moments later Ed could hear the sound of water pattering against ceramic tiles. He collapsed onto the bed, half dressed and wholly miserable, his long, slender form curling up on the too-soft mattress. 

_“Stay with me.”_

_“Oswald, that’s exceptionally kind but I don’t want to intrude. You have already done so much for me. I’d be spending the night in Arkham if you had not come for me.”_

_“Please. I insist. I want you to stay with me.”_

_Oswald’s eyes looked up at him, bright and eager and so full of a love that he’d failed to recognise. His smaller hands had clasped over his own, and in hindsight, the touch lingered a bit too long to be platonic._

_“Very well. In that case, I would be honoured to stay with you.”_

After an indeterminate amount of time, the bathroom door clicked open and Ed heard the sound of Victor walking past him. The footsteps paused. Then slowly began to grow closer again. Cool fingertips brushed against the side of his arm and he squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he could. 

“Goodbye, Ed.”

He wished he had found his voice quickly enough to implore Victor to change his mind, to stay. He could tell him how much he regretted shooting Oswald, he could tell him how much Oswald had meant to him as well. But he didn’t. When he sat up, finally ready to speak, Victor was gone.


	35. "Take your medicine." (Oswald x Zsasz)

“Come on, boss.” Victor wrapped an arm around Oswald’s fragile frame, coaxing him up the stairs. 

“Let me go,” The smaller man murmured, but there was no fight in him. It took all he had not to just collapse in a heap at the foot of the stairs. “Victor, I’m _fine.”_

“You’re not fine. You need to rest. Properly. In your bed.” 

How long had Oswald been sleeping on the couch? It had to be weeks. It was depressing, Victor didn’t understand the point of it when there were loads of bedrooms he could choose from if he didn’t feel like sleeping in his usual one. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Victor looked left, then right.   
“Which way?” He asked, to which Oswald just mumbled something incomprehensible. 

He decided to go left. Any bedroom would do, he supposed. 

The assassin guided Oswald down onto the bed and pressed a hand to his forehead. He was too warm. His pale skin was flushed pink and sweat soaked his brow. 

“Hang on.”

He left for a moment, going into the ensuite bathroom and coming back with a glass of water. He took out a small packet of medicine from his jacket pocket and popped two pills out. He held them out for Oswald to take. 

“What are those?” Oswald asked suspiciously. He had propped himself up against the headboard so he was somewhat upright, but he looked like he might slide back down at any moment. 

“Medicine. For your fever.”

“I don’t want it.” 

Victor was undeterred. He kept his hand where it was, even though Oswald looked like he was tempted to slap it away. 

“Victor. I said that I won’t-“

His words were cut off by Victor moving in fast and pinching his nose shut with two of his fingers. Before Oswald could stop himself, he gasped, and Victor used this opportunity to put the pills into his mouth and then flooded it with water from the glass he had filled up in the bathroom. Oswald spluttered and coughed, but it worked, the pills went down.

“Victor! You- You forget your place!” The unwilling patient complained, once his self appointed carer had let him go. “That was completely out of order!”

Victor didn’t think it was. Sure, he would prefer if Oswald wasn’t mad at him, but the end justified the means. Oswald had made it clear he would have never taken the medicine on his own free will. 

“Get some rest, boss.” He told him, ignoring the way Oswald continued to scowl at him, even when he finally succumbed to tiredness and curled up in the bed to go to sleep.


	36. "I just ironed these pants." (Zsasz x Ed)

It was slightly surreal to see Victor Zsasz doing household chores, but that was exactly what he was doing. He was standing, wearing only his black boxer briefs, ironing Ed’s clothes.

“You’re up early.” Ed commented, taking a pair of pants from the freshly ironed, impeccably folded laundry and putting them on. 

“I always get up early.” Victor replied, folding a shirt with impressive grace and quickness before putting it on top of the pile.

Ed made a mental note of that. He liked to know things about people, and that information might just come in handy some day. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked, making his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and looked inside of it for inspiration. “I have a meeting with our esteemed Mayor later this morning, so I’m afraid that I won’t have time to make anything very extravagant.”

“That sounds good.” 

Ed jumped. Victor’s voice purred into his ear and his hands wrapped around his waist. He hadn’t heard him approach.

“When did you-“ Ed’s words caught in his throat when Victor kissed it. His hand trembled on the door of the fridge. Victor moved one of his own hands downwards and began to stroke Ed’s member through the tight-fitting fabric. Ed shifted beneath his hand, gasping and leaning into the lithe body that was pressed behind his own. “Oh my… I…”

His mind was no longer occupied with thoughts of what to cook for breakfast. 

Victor continued to plant soft, wet kisses on the side of his throat, sucking and biting and leaving the flesh tender and pink. Ed whimpered, reaching back to hold onto Victor, to encourage him to keep going. Then suddenly, Victor stopped.

“This won’t do.”

“What?” Ed knew how utterly desperate he sounded, but he couldn’t help it. Victor still had his hand on his cock, but he had just  _stopped_ , and Ed didn’t know why.

“I just ironed these pants.” Victor almost sounded like he was scolding him, and it made Ed feel weak at the knees for reasons he didn’t care to address at the moment. “But there’s already a crease in them.” He stroked his thumb over Ed’s hardening length, one, two, three times…  Then Ed gasped and shuddered, and Victor  _tutted_. “And a stain, from the sounds of it.”

Ed’s mind was spinning, he couldn’t make himself say anything comprehensible. He might have stammered out an apology, or he might have just muttered out jumbled half-words. He couldn’t be sure.

“We’ll just have to take them off.” He felt Victor’s lips curve into a smile as they pressed against the side of his neck, and with a soft pop, he pulled them open. The button flew off onto the kitchen floor but neither man bothered to look for it. It, along with breakfast, was fast forgotten.


	37. “You work for me. You are my slave.” (Fish x Oswald)

“Ah!” Oswald’s head arched back in pain and Fish kept it there, she wrapped her fingers in his raven black hair and pulled. He whimpered. “P-Please, Miss Mooney. I won’t ever do it again.”

“You’re damn right you won’t.” She tapped the crop against his ass, making him flinch with every touch. Several deep pink horizontal lines already marked the pale skin, each one placed neatly beneath the one above it. He was bent over the flat surface of the bar, while she stood beside him, ideally placed to dish out a thorough whipping on his disobedient ass. She drew her wrist back and with a painful -smack- another pink line bloomed. Oswald sobbed and tried to hang his head forward, but she didn’t let him. 

“I’m sorry!” He snivelled desperately, perhaps thinking that if he begged enough she might be persuaded to stop early, but it was a futile hope. His pleas almost sounded convincing, but Fish knew better.

“You’re just sorry you got caught.” She pointed out, to Oswald’s apparent misery. He whined and tried to reach back to soothe the welts, but she slapped his hand away with the tongue of the crop. “You’ve got no discipline at all, do you?”

Oswald sniffed pitiably instead of answering. She struck him again.

“I asked you a question!” She snapped, her voice raising so it could be heard over his yelp.

“Y-Yes, Miss Mooney! Please, take pity on me!” His body jerked against the side of the bar every time he was hit and she could feel that his hair was damp with sweat. She could catch the occasional glimpse of his face in the mirror behind the bar when he flinched hard enough, and it was a mess too. All red and covered in tears. Utterly pathetic. 

“This _is_  me taking pity on you!” She struck him again, a little harder than she had meant to, because it left a nasty red mark that would definitely bruise. Oswald wailed in response, his hands reaching back again and this time she let him soothe himself, just for a few moments. “If any of my other men screwed up like you did, they’d be getting their ass beaten with a metal bat. Understand?” 

She released her grip on his hair and took a few steps back. She sighed. 

It wasn’t that she felt bad for him, the kid deserved this, but it was pitiful to see a grown man cry like that. 

‘Damn it, his crybaby tactics are working on me.’ She thought to herself, shaking her head at being so soft.

“Quit your bawling and clean yourself up. I’ve got a meeting at the docks in an hour and it’s raining.”

“Yes, Miss Mooney.” Came his response, small and timid. She’d overheard the way he spoke to the other staff, the ones that he thought he could get away with talking down to. He would turn up his nose at them and scoff softly at their comebacks. He’d never dare talk to her that way. After all, he worked for her. He was her slave. 

“Hurry up then. Move that worthless butt of yours and meet me back here in ten minutes, and not a  _second_ more.”

And that was how things would stay.


	38. "I'm not here to make friends." (Jerome Valeska x Oswald Cobblepot)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic non-con.

“I’m not here to make friends, Ozzie.” 

Jerome was surprisingly strong. His hand clamped over Oswald’s mouth and he twisted his head to the side, exposing his trembling throat for him to torment. He lay down soft, almost ticklish, kisses on the sensitive skin, and Oswald whimpered behind his hand. 

“You really think I need to be friends with a broken, fallen, little birdie like you? That’s  _cute_.” The harshness of his words contrasted with the gentle kisses, but both of them made Oswald’s stomach twist in disgust. “Your day is done, Ozzie.”

With that, Jerome took his hand off of Oswald’s mouth and instead grabbed his shoulder. He forced him to turn around, then bent him over his own desk, his chin hitting the solid wooden surface with a hard thud. Oswald cried out in pain, but then he began to fight back.

“You can’t do this to me! My day is done? You have _no_  idea! Everyone who has made an enemy of me has met their maker! You will be no different!” He spat, he looked around at the younger man with utter contempt on his face. Jerome was pretending to yawn. Oswald’s heart sunk in his chest. He shifted, tried to get up, and spoke up again, although less steadily this time. “If you let go of me now, you leave with your life!”

Jerome giggled and pressed down harder on Oswald’s back. It started to hurt. 

“Are you done?” He asked, his voice low and dangerous. And predatory.

Oswald swallowed deeply, he shifted around again, but to no avail. This time Jerome didn’t just watch him struggle, after a few moments, he tugged down Oswald’s pants and underwear in one savage movement. He seemed to like the gasp of horror this elicited and his laughter grew. 

“As I said, I’m not here to make  _friends_ , Ozzie… But that doesn’t mean we can’t become ‘close’.”

Oswald watched, trapped, as Jerome placed to fingers into his mouth and covered them in saliva. He was shamelessly vulgar about it, oohing and moaning as he made them slick with spit. 

“Stop, stop this…! You can’t… Mister Valeska, I implore you to stop this madness!”

“You know, I’d heard you were good at begging.” Jerome had finished preparing his fingers. He rubbed the now wet digits against Oswald’s hole and watched with glee as the older man squeezed his eyes shut and choked out a disgusted whimper. “But you’re going to have to do better than that.”

One finger pushed in, nearly to the knuckle, and Oswald pressed his face into the crook of his arm. His hand, the one that wasn’t pinned against his back, gripped onto the side of his desk as he tried to force himself up. Jerome snorted in amusement. “Quit squirming. Or don’t. It’s kind of cute actually.”

The finger started to thrust in and out, and Oswald found himself sobbing. It was uncomfortable, but it wasn’t the pain that made him cry. It was the fact he had been someone in this city, and now this was happening to him. 

And there was no one here to stop it.

“No more begging? No more threats? You’re boring me.” 

Another finger pushed in and Oswald’s breath shuddered at the way it stretched him. To his horror, Jerome found  _just_  the right angle and his sobs gradually died down into half stifled whines of pleasure. He hated himself for them.

“Ooh… Now that’s interesting.” 

Oswald wasn’t squirming any longer, because he knew it would only hurt him more, but Jerome seemed to take this as further evidence that he was enjoying it. 

He wasn’t.

His body took some sort of debauched pleasure in the way Jerome’s fingers pushed into him, but he didn’t want this. 

“Do you want more?” Jerome asked, practically purring. He sounded like he wanted to do more than just finger him, and Oswald felt tears prick the corners of his eyes again at the thought. 

“No. N-No, I don’t…”

“Liar.” 

“I want you to stop… But you won’t.” As if to prove a point, Jerome stopped, but he kept his hand on Oswald’s ass, the wet fingers slightly sticky against his skin. He grit his teeth together, trying to regain at least a fraction of his dignity. “If you’re going to do this, just get on with it.”

Jerome squeezed his ass, digging his fingers in hard enough to hurt. He hummed thoughtfully, as if considering it, and Oswald shivered beneath his gaze. He was scrutinising parts of his body that had never been scrutinised before, and it made his face burn with shame. 

“Hurry up!” 

Jerome giggled. “That desperate for me, huh?” He patted him on the ass, then released Oswald, and the older man could barely believe it. He couldn’t even find it in himself to move up off of the desk at first.

“Maybe some other time. See you around Ozzie.”

Jerome’s laughter seemed to echo down the hallway as he left, and when Oswald finally forced himself to get back up, the dull pain made him feel like the madman was still echoing inside of him as well.

‘Some other time.’ The next time they saw each other, Oswald would cut his throat.


	39. “I thought you didn’t want me.” (Ed x Oswald)

“Oh my… Oh God, Oswald…” Ed sucked in air through his teeth, his long fingers combing through Oswald’s hair before finally gripping onto it. “Ah… That feels so good.”

He let his head loll back and rest against the velvet headboard of their bed, his eyes closed over, allowing his grip on the other man’s hair to slacken so Oswald could work freely. He was criminally good at this.

“Ah!”

When he was done, Oswald rested his head on one of Ed’s thighs and his eyes fluttered closed in quiet contentment. Ed stroked his cheek. “Let me-“

“It’s okay.” 

Ed paused, then stroked Oswald’s cheek again. “I’d like to.” He replied, a note of concern rising in his voice. He hadn’t noticed Oswald drifting from him, but Oswald’s refusal made him think back. How long had it been since he’d been intimate with him? Oswald had done things for him, but he had done nothing in return. Oswald never pressed him to. Ed had been busy, and Oswald had always seemed happy to alleviate his stress after a full day with either his mouth or his hand.

“It’s fine, Ed. You must be tired.”

Ed felt his cheeks grow slightly hot in embarrassment. He’d said that more than once after Oswald had finished him. He had been selfish.

“Oswald,” Ed sat up and put a hand on each of Oswald’s shoulders. He looked steadfastly into the other’s eyes. “Tell me truthfully, do you want me?”

Oswald’s cheeks coloured and his eyes lowered in a manner that was sweeter than he knew. He laughed a little, “Of course I want you, Ed.”

Ed leaned in to kiss him, but hesitated when he felt Oswald shrink away. 

“But I didn’t think you wanted me.”

The admission confirmed Ed’s fears. He  _had_  been selfish. 

“I want you. I want you so much.” Ed kissed him, and this time Oswald didn’t move away. He kept on kissing him, guiding him back so that he lay down in the same position that he himself had been in moments ago. 

“You’ve been wonderful to me these past days, Oswald.” He said softly, one of his hands running up the inside of Oswald’s thigh, then stroking his member through the fabric of his pants. The smaller man gasped sharply, and Ed found himself smiling at the sound. “I’m sorry for neglecting you.”


	40. A kiss on the back (Zsasz x Ed)

Ed hissed through his teeth as Victor’s lips gently pressed kiss after kiss on the pink lines that covered his back.

“Does it still hurt?” The assassin asked, and there was a hint of amusement in his voice that made Ed stiffen like he wanted to smack him.

“Of course it still hurts.” Ed replied sulkily.

“You seemed to enjoy it.” Victor reminded him, placing yet another kiss on Ed’s slender, marked back. The stripes would be gone in a matter of hours. Maybe less. Victor thought that Ed was really being a bit overdramatic about it all. He’d been quite gentle. “You even asked for me to go harder at one point, didn’t you?”

Victor could hear Ed mutter something into his pillow. He couldn’t make out what it was exactly but he could guess.

“Should I just get rid of the flogger then?” He asked, moving upwards a bit and nuzzling the side of the other man’s neck to coax him out of his sulk.

It seemed to work.

“No. Keep it. I might want to use it on you next time.”

Victor laughed before he could help himself, but he kissed his lover on the cheek to keep him happy and reassure him that he wasn’t turned off by the suggestion. “I’ll look forward to it.”


	41. A Supernatural Kiss (Ed x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had too much fun with this. 2x09, but Oswald is a vampire and Ed badly wants become one. I almost want to turn this into a full length thing. If I do, I am calling it ‘Disco Vampire’.

Edward Nygma was an odd fellow. Oswald didn’t quite know what to think of him. All he could really think about was how much he wanted to be unconscious. Instead, he was awake, wounded, and listening to his ‘saviour’ talk like a gleeful, giddy schoolboy about murdering people.

“In short, I want to become like you.” Ed summed up, his hands clasped expectantly in front of him.

Oswald snorted in disbelief. He shook his head wearily. “No you don’t.”

The younger man’s face fell slightly, but he persisted. Undeterred. He sat on the edge of bed and leaned in uncomfortably close to Oswald. His deep brown eyes shone brightly, and Oswald couldn’t help appreciating how full of wonder they were. But he didn’t deserve anyone’s admiration. He braced himself for an argument.

“Please. Mr Penguin. You won’t regret it. I would be in your debt.”  Before the wounded man could stop him, Ed took Oswald’s hand in his and placed it on his neck. Oswald shuddered and tried to pull it away. The warmth. The heartbeat. The knowledge that blood, blood he craved, was running through Ed’s veins. That it was just beneath his fingertips. Waiting for him. 

He swallowed deeply. His stomach rumbled and his mouth grew wet. 

Ed _had_  saved his life, and he said he wanted this. 

Foolish boy that he was. 

He had no idea what misery this curse would bring him. 

His hand trembled in Ed’s grasp, the ends of his fingers pressing firmly onto the other man’s throat. Ed practically moaned. 

“Do it.” He pleaded, those dark brown eyes seeming to grow glazed over with desire. “Please, do it.”

Oswald squeezed his eyes shut. He cursed underneath his breath. 

“I can’t. I’m not like that anymore. I’m done.”

Ed dropped his hand, but only to grab his wrist instead, both of his wrists, and he pinned them to the wall behind the bed suddenly. In no time at all, he was straddling Oswald, his expression frightening and demanding, even to a creature of the night. 

“You  _will_  bite me.” He said, and he made it sound like an order. 

Oswald opened his mouth to protest, but before the words came out, Ed kissed him. He bit him. His blunt human teeth biting into the soft flesh of Oswald’s lip and making him bleed. He gasped in pain, his hands flinched but he was unable to escape his rescuer’s vicelike hold.  

Ed parted from him with Oswald’s blood dripping from his lips. He grinned in victory as Oswald’s pupils expanded, as his animal instincts took over at the sight and smell of blood. Oswald pounced on him and sunk his teeth deep into Ed’s waiting neck. 

And Ed was reborn.


	42. "Does that feel good?" (Strange x Nicewald)

Oswald had always craved affection, approval. However, he had rarely received it from anyone other than his mother. She tried to make up for other people’s scorn, but she could never make up for it all. That wasn’t her fault, no one could. 

Oswald needed love. He needed a type of love that his mother couldn’t give him. 

Hugo Strange was happy to give that to him. He said it would help his recovery. Oswald thought he was right. He felt better when he was in his arms. When he had his approval and affection. He became anxious when he was apart from him, when he did something that might disappoint him. 

“Does that feel good?” Hugo asked, his hand wrapped around Oswald’s cock, stroking slowly and deliberately. 

Oswald whimpered out a ‘yes’. He tried his best to keep his hips still. He longed to thrust forward into the other man’s hand, but he didn’t want to seem filthy. 

He bit his bottom lip until it started to hurt and sweat began to collect on his forehead. His heart thudded heavily in his chest. He gasped sharply. He came.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” He squeaked apologetically, eyes snapping open and seeing with embarrassment that his seed had gotten onto Hugo’s shirt. The other man chuckled slightly. 

“That’s quite alright, Oswald.” He wiped it off with his pinstriped crimson handkerchief. 

Oswald’s heart swelled with affection. He felt loved.


	43. "Is that... Blood?" (Nicewald x Zsasz)

“Is that… Blood?” Oswald gestured to the stain on the front of Victor’s shirt. He was trembling. Small, nervous, birdlike movements that made him look like he was practically vibrating. Victor liked it very much.

“Yeah.” He stepped forwards, put a hand on the other man’s cheek. He couldn’t feel the heat through his glove, but by the way it was flushed, Victor could tell it was warm. “Are you scared of me?”

Oswald swallowed deeply, looking up at the taller man. His pale eyes were wide and Victor thought to himself how much he liked them too. They were the nicest colour. He liked it when Oswald wore mascara, but they looked pretty without it too. 

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?” 

Oswald’s eyes somehow got even wider. 

“I don’t lie.”

Victor frowned slightly.

“I mean… I don’t lie anymore.” The smaller man clarified, lowering his gaze a little. 

Victor tilted his face up so that Oswald was looking at him again. His frown deepened. Oswald smiled nervously, the sides of his mouth twitching. “They fixed me.”

“There was nothing wrong with you.” 

Oswald opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Victor didn’t want to hear it. He kissed him. He stopped whatever self deprecating words were about to come out from his mouth with his lips and his tongue. 

Oswald was different now, but he was still Oswald. He still loved him. But he wouldn’t let him lie and say that he was anything less than perfect.


	44. "Don't touch me." (Strange x Nicewald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short but a warning for non-con.

At the start Oswald had screamed and kicked and resisted with every _inch_  of his being. Strange had been impressed. For a man so small, Oswald had a lot of fight in him. But he’d bent eventually. He’d broke eventually. Everyone had a limit, it was just a matter of finding it.

“Don’t touch me!” He’d screamed, straining against the leather manacles and trying to claw at him, but the chains weren’t long enough for him to reach. He screamed even louder when he was penetrated. 

Things were different now. 

“Please touch me.” Oswald begged. He no longer needed to be restrained. He leaned into his hands, accepting every caress he was given with deep and desperate gratitude. 

Yes, everyone had a limit. Even the King of Gotham. They all broke in the end.


	45. "It's okay, I'm here." (Ed x Oswald)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after 3x14 with hallucination Oswald.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

Cold, wet, dripping fingers caressed his cheek, and Ed shivered. Oswald smiled. 

“I love you.”

The drowned spectre leaned in and placed a salty kiss on his mouth. His tongue slid between Ed’s warm lips. The muscular organ felt cold and dead, but yet it was still moving. Ed whimpered in fear and tried to recoil from the kiss, but Oswald held firm. He kept it going with moans of need and rocked his small body against Ed’s taller form. He was hard. He wasn’t real, yet he was still hard for him.

“Please go away.” Ed whispered when their lips _finally_ parted, but Oswald didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he just smiled again.

“You’re so wonderful, Ed.” He ran one of his hands over Ed’s chest, feeling the heartbeat that he himself no longer had. His other hand travelled down his back, resting on his ass. Ed’s breath hitched. “You’re beautiful.”

“Please go away.” Ed repeated, more desperately. He couldn’t find the strength to fight Oswald off. His mind screamed for him to, but his body seemed frozen, as if the icy saltwater dripping off of Oswald had infected him. 

“I love you, Edward.” Oswald said softly, leaning in for another kiss. It was even deeper than the previous one. Ed almost felt like he was going to choke on the dead man’s tongue.

Then, he fell into unconsciousness. He woke up hours later alone in bed and when his mind slowly unclouded from sleep, he found that a small part of him wished that Oswald was still there.


	46. "Are you drunk, Ed?" (Zsasz x Ed)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set some time after 3x14 and has some hints of Ed x Oswald and Zsasz x Oswald too.

“Are you drunk?” Victor tilted his head to the side curiously. He’d never seen Ed drunk before. It was kind of weird.

He was used to seeing him sharp, alert, but he didn’t seem like that now. His were half lidded and slightly misty with tears, and his cheeks were flushed pink thanks to alcohol. 

“You already know the answer to that.” Ed replied, his voice thick and deep but sounding like it might unravel and break into sobs at any moment. 

Victor sighed, he stepped towards Ed and sat beside him at the kitchen countertop. He wrapped an arm around his sloping shoulders.    
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked, sliding Ed’s half finished glass away from him, along with the bottle. The taller man tried to grab for them, but the smooth granite surface made sliding them out of his reach easy. “It’s not like you to get like this.”

Ed let out a small, amused huff. 

Victor frowned, not understanding why that was funny.

“Maybe it  _is_ like me.”

“I don’t follow.”  
  
  Ed sat up straight and inhaled sharply through his nose. His hands clutched at the side of the countertop, his fingertips tapped on it nervously. Victor waited patiently. Evidently, Ed had something he wanted to get off of his chest. He often fidgeted like this when he was apprehensive about something. 

“My dad used to do this. Get drunk when he was stressed. Or upset. Or depressed. Or any negative emotion really. I’m aware it’s not a healthy coping mechanism, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.” Ed’s voice was clearer now, but his eyes had become glassy. 

Victor squeezed his shoulder. He felt sorry for him, but he could tell that Ed had more to say. Ed wouldn’t just randomly get drunk because he was reminiscing about his father.

“Oswald used to drink too much as well.”

That was more like it. He could believe Ed might want to drink because of _that_. 

Ed’s breath hitched in his throat. He blinked several times, then took off his glasses and let them clatter onto the countertop while he pressed his hands against his eyes. His body hunched over, shaking as he tried to keep in sobs.

Victor’s hand slid down from his shoulder to his back, palm moving in soothing circles. He was patient, silent, and above all, non-judgmental. Crying didn’t bother him. Ed’s tears were embarrassing to Ed, but not to Victor.

“You should go to bed.” He said eventually, once Ed was calm enough to hear him.

“Will you stay with me?” Ed asked, sniffling and looking like he was in need of a tissue. 

Victor didn’t have one on him, so he stood up and tore off a square of paper towel. He pressed it to Ed’s cheeks to soak up the moisture that had gathered there, the action was awkward to Ed but not to Victor. He tried to take it from him, but Victor persisted in mopping up Ed’s teary face. 

“Victor-“ He complained, still trying to bat away his hand, but he failed each time.  
  
 “Hm?”

“Will you stay with me?” He asked again, a little more impatiently. Victor was glad. Ed being huffy at him was better than him crying over Oswald. He missed him too, a lot, but there was nothing either of them could do about that.

“Of course.” He replied, scrunching up the paper towel then throwing it over his shoulder. It landed in the trashcan perfectly. “Do you need help getting up?”

“I’m perfectly fine now.” Ed stood up, but then he sat back down immediately. Evidently, he wasn’t quite as ‘fine now’ as he had thought. So Victor helped him up, wrapping his arm around his shoulders again. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay.” 

Victor didn’t quite understand why he had grown attached to Ed. But he had. Perhaps it was because, behind all the cocky little smirks and ingenious schemes, he was breakable. It gave him something to protect.


	47. "Just breathe, you'll be okay." (Oswald x Zsasz)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oswald has a panic attack.

Oswald was shaking, his hands alternating between clutching tightly at the head of his cane and then dropping to his knees. He breathed in and out rapidly, eyes staring downwards, large and frightened and wet with tears. 

“Boss?”

Oswald didn’t answer him. He just made a frightened sounding sort of noise that was somewhere between a whimper and a yelp, and Victor moved in. He knelt in front of Oswald, looking up at him with his probing dark eyes. Oswald shifted back in the seat slightly, afraid at the sudden approach.

“V-Victor please- I-“

“You’re having a panic attack.”

“I can see that!” His boss snapped, before flinching, as if at his own voice. He bent forwards, his head in his hands, shielding his face from Victor’s view. “Please just leave me, I-I… I will be fine in a moment- Aah, God…!” He had almost sounded a little better at the start of that sentence, but by the end of it he was hyperventilating again. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Victor-“

“You need to breathe, boss. Deep slow breaths. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I c-can’t-“    
  
“I’ll do it with you.”

Oswald was still shaking, but Victor made out a bob of his spiky head that he took to mean ‘yes’. 

“Okay, then.” He held up a finger, although Oswald couldn’t see it.

“One…” He inhaled deeply, then exhaled deeply, raising a second. “Two…”

Oswald tried, but he was shaking too much. Victor was patient. 

“One… Two….”

A little closer this time.

“One… Two…”

A little closer.

“One… Two…”

Oswald met his count and dropped his hands from his face. He was still trembling slightly, but Victor took this as a good sign. He guided him in breathing in and out slowly until he was sure Oswald had become less frantic, then he stopped. Oswald was breathing normally again. 

“That was foolish.” Oswald muttered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Hey, breathing exercises work.”

“I meant,” Oswald sniffed, “My panicking like that. It was foolish. Embarrassing. Thank goodness you’re the only one that saw it.”

“Oh.” Victor smiled a little at that. Oswald was glad he had been the one to find him. He liked that. “I’m happy I was the one who saw it too, boss.”

Oswald gave him a somewhat disapproving look. Victor ignored it. 

“Can I touch you?” He asked instead, making Oswald’s cheeks turn pink. 

“Excuse me?”

“You look like you could use a hug.” He explained, and although he appeared to be a little embarrassed, Oswald nodded. 

Oswald didn’t ask Victor not to tell anyone, because he already knew that he wouldn’t.


	48. Things you said after you kissed me (Jim x Ed)

“I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Jim dropped his hands from Ed’s face, clenched them into fists at his side. He cursed underneath his breath and turned away from the other man, he began pacing with a hand combing through his hair. 

“Fuck, this is a mistake.” 

Ed smirked, tilting his chin back in a way that highlighted his superior height. “What time was it a mistake? The first time you kissed me? The last time? Or all the times in between?”    
  
“All of them.” Jim snapped, his voice a sharp growl. “Shut up, Ed.”

  “Why the sudden pang of conscience? I don’t understand-“  
  
  “That’s the point.” Jim moved back towards him, standing very close, close enough that it would be easy to kiss him again. “You don’t understand how wrong this is. How wrong we are.”

Ed scoffed and Jim’s hands curled into tighter fists.

“I understand that perfectly well. What I don’t understand is why you chose to become conflicted about what ‘we’ are now. After we’ve had sex, not before. It’s very convenient.” Ed didn’t seem upset as such, but he did seem exasperated. Like Jim’s conflict was a hassle to deal with when the detective’s mouth could be being put to much better use.

“It’s not…” Jim didn’t appreciate it being put like that. Like he’d deliberately ignored how wrong it all was until  _after_  he’d gotten an orgasm out of it. “It’s not like that.”  
  
  “Whatever you say.” 

Ed walked around Jim, his shoulder brushing against Jim’s as he passed him. He picked up his coat from the back of the chair that he’d hung it on and shook the remaining drops of rain off of its woollen surface.

However, before he could put it on, Jim followed him and turned him around with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t go.” He muttered, his eyes not meeting Ed’s despite how closely they were standing to each other. “At least stay until the rain stops.”    
  
Ed let his coat fall over the back of the chair again. He didn’t bother hiding the smug expression from his face.

“Well if you  _insist_ … “ He began, beaming shamelessly.

“Quiet.” Jim grunted, leaning in close to the other man and kissing him again.


	49. Things you said after you kissed my throat (Zsasz x Ed)

“Don’t stop.” 

Victor had no intention of stopping.

He kissed Ed’s neck again, leaving another pink mark behind. Ed groaned appreciatively, his hands running other Victor’s back before settling on his shoulders, gripping onto them for support. 

“Can you… Can you choke me? Just a little…” He pleaded, a tremble of eagerness in his voice. He’d wanted it for a while.

“Sure.” Victor replied, as if the request was the most normal thing in the world.  Although, Ed thought, he supposed that Victor had probably done far stranger things in bed. He was far more experienced, nothing seemed to phase him.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

Victor’s hands squeezed his throat. He didn’t squeeze hard, but it was enough to make Ed’s breath hitch and his eyes close over. He whimpered, the skin of his neck was tender from being kissed and bitten and sucked. 

“Keep going?” 

Ed nodded slightly, and Victor squeezed again. Ed moaned, growing harder from the touch. His back arched and Victor rubbed against him, all while still holding his throat. 

Ed’s moans became more desperate, his movements against Victor’s body jagged and impatient and a little inelegant. Victor chuckled softly, but it wasn’t unkind. He squeezed again, tighter, and Ed came.

“You needed that. huh?” The assassin hummed, releasing the love bitten throat and stroking it tenderly with one of his thumbs. Ed nodded, letting out a soft wheeze.

“You have no idea.”


	50. Things you said when you were crying (Oswald x Zsasz)

“I thought you were dead.” 

Victor brushed his thumbs over Oswald’s cheek, wiping tears from the smaller man’s face. It felt strange, to know that someone would cry if you died. He hadn’t thought that was a possibility for him. He hadn’t let people in close enough for them to cry for him. Apart from Oswald. 

“I’m sorry.” He kissed him on the forehead. “Forgive me?”

“Of course.” Oswald said, without even thinking about it. But before he could seal the words with a kiss, Victor sank to his knees with a grunt of pain. 

“Victor!” 

Oswald’s eyes were wide with horror and his hands gripped onto Victor’s shoulders. Victor let himself lean into Oswald’s body, even if he knew that he shouldn’t. He was too heavy for the little bird. He didn’t want to crush him.

“Victor! What- I thought you said-“ One of Oswald’s hands had lowered to his stomach, it became stained in his blood. Oswald was panicking. “We need a doctor! Call one immediately!” He demanded, his voice cracking as he ordered his henchmen to hurry. 

“Victor, why didn’t you tell me- Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?!”

“Sorry.” 

Oswald pressed his face to his chest, he was still holding him tightly. “I should never have let you go on that mission.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to.” He appreciated the sentiment, but it was always going to end this way. He hadn’t ever thought he’d live to a ripe old age. A lot of good assassins had bit the dust younger than him. He had been lucky.  
  
 “It’s not okay!” Oswald snapped, and Victor could feel his tears soak through the fabric of his shirt. “I’m never letting you out of my sight again!”

Victor would have argued, but he supposed it didn’t matter anymore. He ran a hand through Oswald’s hair. “Sure.”

“Where is that damn doctor-“ Oswald sobbed, moving his head away for a moment so he could look around the room and see for any sign that the others were returning. Then he said something else, but Victor couldn’t hear it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like 50 is a good number to end this on. I have other drabble collections and will no doubt do more in the future so please check those out as well.


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